Demon Virus
by Yami Faerie
Summary: "Demon Blood" 'verse. Sam and Dean hit up Utah for a salt-and-burn and meet a new special child who's empathic. Can she teach Sam how to control his own abilities? And what happens when he has a vision that takes them to River Grove, Oregon?
1. Chapter One: The Empath

**Demon Virus**

**Chapter One: The Empath**

**This is the sequel to "From the Shadows" and is part of the AU "Demon Blood" 'verse.  
**

**IMPORTANT: This story is, well... It's gonna be a little longer, and I think it's a little more character driven in some respects. Its main location is in Utah, and I find you can't really write about Utah without mentioning its culture, which is heavily influenced by religion. You probably know most of these people as Mormons. Now, Utah is my home, and yes, I am Mormon (I'm not all that active, which probably accounts for my colorful language), and yes, the special child introduced in this story has been brought up in the LDS religion just as I was. I'm not trying to advocate one religion above another, and I will _not_ tolerate any negative comments regarding religion in any way whatsoever. This is a story about people and how experiences can shape who we are. Having said that, enjoy!

* * *

**

"Right. So, I was thinking River Grove in Oregon… Why there? Well, it's a small town, it's secluded, it's surrounded by forests, and there's only one road you can use to access it… Yeah, once infected, the humans will be directed to keep both of them within the city limits until one of the them can get close to our test subject and dose him."

Papers shuffled on a desktop. "It's passed through the blood, open wounds… Yeah, one of them would need to get him alone first. Anything else and the older brother would easily find a way to stop them… Yes, I know it sounds complex, that's why I'm going to have two of my guys out there. One to infiltrate, the other to direct from afar. I'm told his range is about 100 yards or so when a demon is actively possessing someone, so allowing one to actively control the humans from afar should work best for this particular test."

There was a pause, and then a harsh bark of laughter. "Tests over in Australia showed that the basic protocol, once infected, is to cause chaos and infect as many other people as possible. Stupid Aborigines… Anyway, if we want any sort of organization, then we need an active demon commanding things outside of his range. Trust me, that part will work. As for the test subject's reaction, well, we won't know until we try. Are you _sure_ you want to use him and not another one?"

There was another pause, followed by a sigh. "I understand. I want to do this the second weekend in November. How do the visions work, exactly? Will he just _have_ one, or do you…? Ah, I see. Well, I'll get things set up on my end, then. You'll let me know the results once it's done? Great, thank you."

Brady Miller flipped his phone shut, grabbed his backpack, and headed out of his dorm room at Harvard. He had much to do to prepare for the end of days.

* * *

Danielle Young sighed as she listened to her mother's friend ramble on and on about the troublesome teens down the street and wondered, not for the first time, why she had stopped when the woman had called out to her. The short-ish brunette scratched the back of her head irritably before giving out a loud sigh and interrupting Gina.

"Look," she said, "I get that they've got issues, but it's not their fault. They can't help it their mom works graveyards and their dad's a perpetual smoker who drinks beer in front of the TV all night. That's why they need friends like Heather or Elise in their lives."

Gina frowned at Danielle before saying, "I don't like Heather spending time with them."

"You really think their 'bad influence' is gonna rub off on your daughter or my little sister?" Danielle snorted. "And here I thought you were all about good examples teaching those who don't know better."

"Well, yes, I am," Gina sputtered after a moment, "but those two — "

"You're more concerned about the fact that they're Jehovah's Witnesses instead of LDS like us," Danielle interrupted the woman. "Look, you worry about them, and that's great, but you can't go convincing them that they need to convert in order to be good when you act like a stuck-up prick all the time."

The words came tumbling out before the 23-year-old could stop them. The fact of the matter was that Danielle had been struggling for a long time now with her dislike of the mousy-haired woman before her. "Why, I never — " Gina started to say, but Danielle had had enough. After everything else that had happened over the last year, this was suddenly the chance she'd been looking for to blow up at someone, at _anyone._

"You know what your problem is?" she asked loudly, cutting the older woman off again. "You act like you're such a great person with morals and whatever, but the way you judge others without all the facts or even _caring_ about the facts is tiring and I refuse to put up with it any longer."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Gina asked, expression one of absolute shock and anger.

"It means that you're my mother's friend, and I respect that," Danielle stated, "but I can't keep pretending like I'm fine listening to you judge either of my sisters, let alone anyone else who isn't deserving of bullcrap like that." It was only at this point that Danielle willingly lowered her mental shielding, allowing Gina's emotions to flow over her and reading every detail almost as though it were a detailed thought.

Gina was _pissed_. Not surprising, considering the things Danielle had said, but what was interesting was the flow of _guilt_ and _shame_ mixed with something that gave Danielle the impression that Gina thought this was merely a by-product of the things Danielle had gone through over the last few months. And that meant _pity_.

Danielle didn't want _anyone's_ pity. "I think we're done here," she told the older woman before turning to walk away, long ponytail swinging over her shoulder. Gina gaped after her, at a loss of what she could possibly say after that.

Frankly, though, Danielle didn't want her to say a damn word. Gina didn't know the _half_ of Danielle's problems; she only knew about the family struggles and Jared's —

Stopping the thought before it could fully form and rip her heart to shreds _again_, Danielle stalked down the street to her family's house. It had a pretty standard shape compared to every other house in this part of western Provo, but what made it unique were the hedges that lined the front of the yard like a chain link fence along with the tall California blue spruce, the rose bushes and the golden rain tree that reached a good ten or so feet past the top of the split-entry house, its tiny golden leaves fluttering to the ground every time the late October wind so much as sighed.

This place, this house, was _home_, and home meant a level of safety that couldn't be attained anywhere else. Danielle closed her eyes briefly as she paused at the base of the sloped driveway, taking in a deep breath before letting it out slowly and checking her watch.

It was just after four o'clock. Danielle's shift at the movie theater started in an hour, and she needed to get ready, eat something and try to put her game face back on. She barely talked to anyone at work these days and yet her managers still insisted on making her work in the box office, selling tickets. Making conversation wasn't what it once was, and answering the phone was hell. Letting out another sigh, Danielle made her way up the driveway and over to the front door. She could do this, she could pretend to be normal like she used to, even if it felt like it wasn't possible anymore.

* * *

Dean wasn't overly fond of Utah. Sure, there were plenty of locals in the bars of Salt Lake City that he managed to get along with just fine, but most of the religious people in the state were a little extreme in his eyes. Not that he was saying any one religion was better than another, though of course, given that he didn't believe in God or angels, it probably wasn't his place to judge one religion over another.

"Go over this crazy-weird case of yours again," he said to Sam, hoping for some kind of distraction from his weird thoughts.

"Huh?" Sam had been staring absently out the passenger-side window again, and Dean fought to keep himself from rolling his eyes.

"The case, dude. The mostly-reason we're here?"

"Oh, right." Sam sat up straighter and picked up the folder that had been on his lap. "So a student at Provo High School, Gary Matheson, committed suicide by hanging himself from the spotlight booth in the school's auditorium last March. Since then, there have been seven different accidents, three of which resulted in death. One witness claimed she saw Gary, but the authorities just said she was traumatized."

"Of course," Dean sighed. "Are you _sure_ it's this kid, though? I mean, most spirits tend to take _years_ before they manifest on such a violent level."

"I researched the school's history," Sam said, "and no one else has died in the area the auditorium is located in for as far back as I could go. I don't know what else it could be, I mean, the deaths have all looked like suicides and the accidents came pretty close to lookin' the same."

"All right," Dean said. "You know Provo only has _two_ bars?"

"You know that Provo is the location of Brigham Young University?" Sam shot back with a mild grin. "Almost everyone there is Mormon, Dean. Drinking alcohol is strictly prohibited by their religion."

"Right," Dean said, turning into the parking lot of a cheap-looking hotel that had once been a Super 8 Motel; now the "Super 8" was painted over in red and only the word "motel" remained on the sign. "New management, I'm guessing," he said as he parked by the office. "Nice-looking place."

"Yeah," Sam said with a roll of his eyes. "Just get us a room, already."

Dean shot a grin at Sam before heading inside to check into a room. The man behind the desk was old, but straightforward and Dean was back out a few minutes later with the key to their room. He slid back into the Impala's driver seat and moved them across the parking lot. "Room 135," he said to Sam as he parked and turned off the engine, opening the door and heading to the trunk.

Minutes later, they were settled into yet another plain motel room with scratchy sheets, boring paintings of what Dean thought _might_ be flowers, hot water that never lasted long enough, and flimsy towels. Sam instantly set up his laptop and was back to doing research, as always. It made Dean feel a little guilty, but Sam never complained, so he never brought it up. Sam was geek boy and Dean was action man. Or something like that. Anyway…

"Want food?" he asked after half an hour of channel surfing. He wanted to see if there were any nice diners around, but Sam still couldn't block out the emotions of everyone around him, and it was only getting worse as the weeks passed by. This meant that Dean had to replace supplies and get food on his own rather than subject Sam to more misery. So, he tried to recall what places he had spotted when he had driven into the city. "I could hit up the Maverick just across the parking lot or there's an Arby's, or a McDonald's, or a Wendy's, or I could check out the mall just up the hill from here…" He trailed off and felt his face flush as Sam chuckled.

"Done listing options?" he asked and Dean nodded sheepishly. "Get me the salad bowl from Wendy's, the Ceaser salad with ranch dressing and a lemonade."

Dean forced back a sigh. Sam had always been the healthy food freak of the family, but lately it seemed all he ever wanted were simple salads with occasional sandwiches that never had enough meat on them. He still wasn't putting on enough weight for his height, but Dean was just at a loss as how to handle this particular problem. Sam had improved by leaps and bounds in terms of his sleeping and how he handled problems after Ilchester, but for some reason Dean just couldn't fathom, the kid was still being incredibly stubborn about his health. Just then, Sam looked up at him, and the expression on his face reminded Dean that his brother could read his emotions and had yet to figure out how not to. He shifted uncomfortably. "Okay," he said, trying to sound normal. "Ceaser salad it is, then."

As Dean left, he couldn't help but think himself a coward.

* * *

The auditorium just didn't feel the same anymore. Stephanie Tuttle eased into the pitch-black space nervously. After Kelly's accident last week, no one had been allowed inside the auditorium while the place was checked out, but Stephanie had left her USB stick next to the soundboard. She _needed_ it to finish that assignment for Honors English or she was gonna fail. This was probably her only chance to get it without being caught.

Mr. Wallis had handed over the keys to the auditorium to the authorities, but no one needed to know that Stephanie had made her own copies the previous school year when she was entrusted with the previous drama teacher's keys over Christmas Break, right?

"Okay, Gary, I'm only coming in for a sec," the high school senior said, turning on her small flashlight and gazing up the small flight of stairs and into the tech booth. The soundboard was located on the opposite side of the open booth, but if she was quick…

"I know you're angry," she added after a moment of tense silence, "but it's me, your friend." She took a deep breath and bolted up the five steps and over to the soundboard, strawberry blonde ponytail bouncing against her back as she made her way over, heart pounding in her chest.

Thankfully, her USB stick was right where she'd left it, so she snatched it up and spun around, the small beam of light landing on the face of a dead man. Stephanie only just managed to swallow down her scream. "You gonna tell me I wasn't a good friend?" she whispered, wondering what her fate would be.

Gary looked solid enough, but his coloring was starting to fade like an old photograph. He stared at her for a very long moment before giving her a sad smile. "You tried when no one else would," he said.

"I thought I was a good enough reason for you," Stephanie managed to say after a moment. "Was that selfish of me?"

"No," Gary said softly. "It's pretty hard to stop people once they've made up their minds, Steph."

"I wish I could've, though," Stephanie said earnestly. "School hasn't been the same without you next to me in every class. Your mom misses you," she added in a lower voice.

"I can't let go of what happened," Gary said after another moment had passed. "Steph, I'm just _so angry_ at them for what they did, and it never stops, it can't stop…" He trailed off and moved away a little. "You should go," he said, looking into the blackness that surrounded them. "Go and live."

Stephanie swallowed and nodded, blinking rapidly. "When will you stop?" she asked.

Gary shrugged, still not looking at her. "I don't know. That's why you shouldn't come back."

After another moment had gone by, Stephanie finally nodded. "Okay," she said. "I miss you," she added as she headed for her exit.

"Me, too," Gary whispered from behind her as she allowed the door to close.

Stephanie leaned against the auditorium door and allowed her legs to slide out from under her until she was sitting. She knew it was dangerous to be around Gary now, but she couldn't help but want to be as close to him as she could, anyway.

Stephanie drew her knees to her chest and cried.

* * *

It was never easy, finding miracles, Sam knew that after weeks of searching across the country, so why did Provo have _so many_ of them? The year 1973 had at least ten possibilities Sam could investigate further. Of course, he needed to remind Dean that this was one of the many cities in the country Azazel had visited, so the chances of finding a special child were good.

The last several weeks had been spent going to each city Azazel had visited and spending a few days to try and determine who the special child in each of those cities could be. The only problem was that those they'd been able to identify were either going to college in other states; or, like Jake Talley, who apparently had super strength like Sam did, they were overseas in the army, or perhaps studying abroad; or they were dead, just like Max. Just like Scott. But, given how many students stayed in Utah to go to BYU or other nearby universities, chances were they'd actually find the special child this time. Sam was sure of it.

Still, the search could wait until after the case. He knew Dean was desperate for a break from all of this, and a normal Hunt was just what his older brother needed. Sam sighed and shut his laptop as the door opened and Dean entered the room. "Here's your pansy salad," he said, tossing a bag to Sam once he shut the door with his foot. He set Sam's drink on the table and took his food over to his bed.

"Thanks," Sam said with a small grin as he caught the bag and pulled his food out. He knew his decreased appetite bothered Dean. Hell, it bothered Sam, as well, but he couldn't bring himself to eat like he'd used to. Even worse, he didn't go to many public places anymore, the emotions of those around him often overwhelming his senses. He'd actually thrown up in the middle of a grocery store about a month earlier, making Dean just about freak out. So, now he stayed away from large crowds as much as possible. Still, at least he was sleeping better now, right? His bullet wound from Baltimore and the cut on his arm from Guthrie were finally all healed up. Sam just had to remind himself to remember the good things that had happened.

The rest of the evening, Sam did his best to not bring up research or the case, instead focusing on the movie on TV ("Miss Congeniality", but no one really needed to know that, right?) and relaxing.

It'd been far too long since the last time he'd been able to do so, and it felt pretty good.

When Dean finally turned in for the night, however, Sam's eyes were drawn once again to his laptop. He wasn't sure why he hadn't said anything about this to Dean, but he had secretly been trying to look up people he had known growing up that he now suspected had been possessed by demons on Azazel's orders. Dean knew about Rachel Nave, of course, but Sam hadn't been very forthcoming about anyone else he suspected; honestly, he figured it was pretty low on Dean's list of things to worry about.

Sam's list wasn't very long, though it ranged from elementary school through college. However, the one name on the list that bothered him was most was Brady Miller's. How he never managed to suspect his best friend at Stanford still flummoxed him, but the facts were what they were. Brady had been a good man that first semester of college; it was over Christmas break when he had changed so abruptly.

At the time, Sam thought that someone had gotten Brady hooked on drugs or something; what else was he supposed to think when the man barely paid attention in class and partied like there was no tomorrow while looking paler and paler with each day that passed and the powder hidden in his bags? Sam had convinced himself that his friend just needed help and did his best to be there for him. When Brady introduced him to Jessica, he had thought nothing of the smirk playing around his lips, too preoccupied by Jessica's smile, the way her eyes sparkled the moment she first looked at him.

Sam had wanted normal, but never once expected a real relationship with anyone. His dad didn't have anyone besides his sons, and Dean only wanted to sample the wide variety of women in the world. Sam had been with a few girls growing up, but it was Jess who first gave him hope that maybe, just maybe, he could make this chance at normal life be more than just a chance.

And then it had all been taken from him in a flash of fire and blood and he hadn't stopped it because they were supposed to be just _nightmares_, not some sign that he was bigger freak than he had always thought he was because of his upbringing.

Of course, the fact of the matter _was_ that he was a freak, no matter what Dean said. With a sigh, Sam moved across the motel room and settled down before his laptop once more. He reread Rebecca's email for the hundreth time since getting it back in August.

_I emailed Brady, but I'm not so sure that getting back in contact with him is that good of an idea. Honestly, I don't even know if he was telling me the truth when he said he was taking time off from school. I know we both thought that he was struggling with a drug addiction after that Christmas Break, but I'm starting to wonder if it wasn't something more than that. You showed me a world I never thought existed, and with what happened to Jess, I can't help but wonder if this world you live in, if it doesn't follow you. Remember that time you ended up in the hospital and you said you took a tumble down a flight of stairs in the museum and that's why your arm was broken like that? That wasn't the only accident in the museum, I remember that much. Was there something more going on than you were saying?_

_Anyway, let me know how you and Dean are doing, and please, think seriously about things before you go contacting Brady, for my sake._

_Rebecca Warren_

Sam smiled slightly. The museum on campus had been haunted, and Sam couldn't help but want to make the university he was putting his entire future into as safe as possible. A few days research told him that the spirit's body had been cremated, but that one of its possessions, located conveniently on the upper floor of the museum grounds, was tying it to this plane of existence. It had been a few days before the museum realized that an artifact was missing, and they never realized that Sam had taken it and burned it, though not before getting thrown down a flight of stairs and breaking his left arm. Becky had been worried, and Jess had freaked when she saw him the next day, but it had been worth it. That was the only thing Sam had hunted while at Stanford until Dean had turned up.

In the two months since Sam had received the email from Becky, he had remained uncertain as to what he should do about Brady Miller. If he was still possessed, and it seemed more than likely that he was, then the only question remaining was whether the man was going to school somewhere else or if he had completely abandoned the act the moment Sam had left California.

Maybe he _should_ talk to Dean about this, he thought to himself, shutting down his laptop and returning to his bed on the other side of the room. Of course, chances were Dean would want to track Brady down and take an exorcism to him along with some holy water and who knows what else and Sam just wasn't sure that was the action he wanted to take against the man. Provided he really _was_ possessed and not still recovering from a drug addiction like Sam had once thought he was.

Finally feeling the pull of sleep, Sam allowed his body to relax under the covers and let his thoughts drift aimlessly. There were so many questions and not enough answers. Would he ever figure it all out?

* * *

_TBC_


	2. Chapter Two: Connections

**Demon Virus**

**Chapter Two: Connections  
**

**Here's the next chapter. There are mentions made to Asperger's autism in this chapter. If you're unaware of what that is and want more details than the basics provided within the chapter, you're welcome to look it up. In the meantime, enjoy!

* * *

**

"I'm worried about Danielle."

_As if I haven't heard those four words enough since March,_ Lydia Young thought dryly. She set down the book she'd been reading and looked up at Gina. "How so?" she asked, feeling resigned to the conversation.

"She blew up at me for no reason yesterday," Gina told her, taking a seat on the lawn chair opposite Lydia and wrapping her wool jacket around her tiny frame more tightly. It was a relatively warm October day without a breeze, so Lydia had hoped to take advantage of the sun and relax for a little while before the weather turned colder.

No such luck, it seemed.

"What about?"

"She told me she respected our friendship" — _such as it is,_ Lydia thought dryly — "but that she didn't like my opinions or something." Gina leaned forward. "Are you _sure_ she's coping with Jared's death?"

Lydia sighed and looked across the front lawn at the decorations her oldest and youngest daughters had set up for Halloween. "Honestly?" she said after a moment's contemplation. "I don't know, anymore. Her emotions are so shut down all the time. Not even Sara and Elise get through to her half the time, these days, let alone myself or Harry."

"You never said what happened, exactly."

"Neither has Dani," Lydia said. "Only that it was an accident."

"I see."

Neither woman said anything for a long moment.

"What do you think of Melanie and Alex?"

"Julia's kids?" Lydia was confused by the abrupt change in topic. "I thought Elise and Heather are really good friends with Mel, I mean, the three of them are going to the Halloween Dance tomorrow night." She frowned. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason," Gina sighed, and silence fell again.

A few minutes later a red '01 Pontiac Grand Am pulled up outside the house and Danielle emerged with Sarah, Lydia's oldest daughter. Sarah was twenty-eight years old, and she and her youngest daughter, Elise had Asperger's autism, a milder form of autism that left the child high functioning with keen intellect in certain areas, but sometimes with struggling social skills.

"Is Daddy gonna be home for dinner?" Sarah asked as she and Danielle rounded the hedges and started up the driveway, identical backpacks slung over their shoulders as they walked almost in tandem.

"You know he's been working really late these days," Lydia replied, smiling sadly at her daughters, "so I doubt it. How was school?"

"Good," said Sarah.

"Same," Danielle said. "Hi, Gina."

Lydia didn't miss the abrupt change in tone, and neither, it seemed, did Gina. In fact, her friend stiffened and gave a half-hearted smile. That must've been one mother and father of a blow-up yesterday, Lydia thought to herself. Her two oldest daughters headed inside, and the moment the forest green door shut, Gina spoke again.

"Why won't she connect with anyone, anymore?" she asked at once, reminding Lydia of a gossiping teenager.

"I'm not sure," she answered slowly. "Harry thinks it's because Danielle's never gotten over the shock of what happened to Jared. It's just a guess, though," she added, running her non-casted hand through her short hair. "She hasn't spoken to the bishop once since the funeral, and she barely participates at church."

"Is that why she's just a pianist in Relief Society instead of teaching in Primary or Nursery?" Gina asked.

"Bishop Blohm thought it'd be easier to have her do something where she could work with me," Lydia said. She was the chorister in Relief Society, and Danielle played whatever hymns she picked out.

But Danielle never sang, not anymore. If it weren't for the fact that she'd already declared a dancing major at Utah Valley State College, Lydia even thought her child would quit, dancing, too. It had been a miracle just to make sure she enrolled in school again. "I'm not sure how to help her," she admitted to Gina after a long moment. "She's refused to see a therapist, let alone Jared's mom, dad, siblings or step-family." She squeezed her eyes shut. "It's like she's trapped in her own little world, and no one gets to see what's on the inside. It's frustrating and painful to see her like this," she added.

"I'm sure she'll find her way," Gina said consolingly, and Lydia nodded, though she didn't hold much hope.

"Hi, Sister Young!" It was Stephanie Tuttle, the only daughter of Lydia's next-door-neighbors, James and Renee. "Hey, Sister West!" the girl added as she shut the front door of her home.

"Hi, Stephanie," Lydia said and Gina waved.

"Hey, is Dani back from school yet?" Stephanie asked as she approached the fence dividing their properties. "I wondered if I could ask her something."

"She's inside, but I think she's in one of her moods," Lydia sighed.

Stephanie pursed her lips in thought and tugged on her long, strawberry-blonde hair. Danielle wasn't very sociable these days, snapping out at anyone who dared disturb her more often than not. "I'll risk it," Stephanie said decisively. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all," Lydia said, fondly watching the eighteen-year-old as she bounded around the hedges, up the driveway and over to the front door.

"Does it ever get tiring, watching people go around the hedges just to get to your door?" Gina asked.

"Walking's good for everyone," Lydia responded with good humor. "It's worth it."

* * *

The moment Sam and Dean stepped into the auditorium of Provo High School, the EMF detector started beeping. "EMF's goin' nuts," Sam said in surprise, raising his eyebrows. "I wasn't expecting that quite so soon."

Dean shrugged. "Gary _did_ die just up there," he said, pointing almost directly above them at the spotlight booth, which was set into the wall about twenty-five feet from the ground. The auditorium gently sloped down to the stage, which had a covered orchestra pit and a fairly large stage with heavy, green velvet curtains. "It's kinda nice in here," he said. "Can't really say the same for the rest of the place…"

"This school's around fifty years old, Dean," Sam said with a small grin as he stepped up five small stairs and into the technical booth, which contained a lightboard, a soundboard and an old computer that was clearly from the late 90s. "The auditorium, library and basketball court on the opposite side are the newest parts of the school."

"And there you go again, being all smart again," Dean said, but Sam could sense his good humor, so he ignored him and stared up at the spotlight booth.

"We need to get up there," he told Dean, "it might give us a better idea of Gary's mental state."

"We know the kid got teased a lot," Dean said.

"Yeah," Sam replied, "but the four victims who _didn't _die? They either ignored his existence, or they just didn't tend to socialize with him. Something's not quite right."

"We should talk to his friend," Dean told Sam. "Stephanie Tuttle was pretty much his only friend here, right?"

Sam nodded, still staring up at the spotlight booth. "They shared almost every class together," he said. "She must have been devastated when he ended his life like that. The reports say she in the hospital at the time, recovering from having the bones in her left arm all but shattered by a Garren Turner who had been bullying Gary and turned violent when she tried to intervene. He barely managed to escape expulsion."

"Ouch," Dean said quietly. "Well, let's head up there, shall we?"

They exited the auditorium and headed upstairs to the correct door, unlocking it with the keys Sam had "asked" the police to give them and ascending the steep, narrow steps and into the booth. The moment they stepped into the small space, Sam was slammed with an overload of emotions and he hit his head on the too-low ceiling.

"Whoa," Dean said, barely catching him and moving him onto the only chair in the tiny booth. "What was that?"

"Emotions," Sam groaned, clutching at his head and squeezing his eyes shut. "Why can't I learn how to control it?" He gasped for air as he tried to sort through what he was feeling. The realization that it was _Gary's_ emotions he was feeling sent him reeling. He gritted his teeth as he kept trying to sort through the onslaught.

"That's it, we're getting you outta here," Dean said, and Sam felt the older man start to manhandle him from the booth.

"I don't think it was suicide," Sam suddenly said, stopping just short of the narrow staircase and almost catching his head again. "It… feels like it was just _staged_ that way."

Dean was silent for a moment before he reached forward again and tugged Sam down the stairs and out the door. The moment he shut it behind them, the emotions began to drain away and Sam leaned against the nearest wall, breathing hard with his fingers glued to his temples.

"Staged suicide?" Dean asked quietly. "Are you sure?"

Sam didn't dare try to move his head just yet. "Not positive," he said, "but that's the impression I got. Why didn't he show himself or talk to us? His presence felt so damn _strong_ for someone who's only been dead seven months…"

"I don't know," Dean said. "Maybe he doesn't attack people he doesn't know for some reason?"

"That sounds strange," Sam said. "Spirits don't do things like that."

"Maybe Gary does," Dean suggested, and Sam could practically _feel_ his brother's shrug even though they weren't touching. God, this damn empathy of his was just getting out of control.

Sam hadn't electrocuted anyone like that foolhardy detective since the events of Baltimore, only going so far as accidentally shocking a few people. Dean somehow continued to escape being so much as shocked; it was almost as though Sam instinctively knew not to hurt his brother. Other people tended to be unpredictable, but Sam felt like he was beginning to learn to control it. If only he could say the same for the empathy.

"Let's go," Dean said after a few moments of silence. "We need to do more research, meet this Stephanie chick and get you some more rest. You think taking some Advil will help at all?"

"It's worth a try," Sam said softly, finally opening his eyes and blinking blearily at his brother. "M'tired."

"I bet," Dean said. "C'mon, gigantor."

Sam snorted at the nickname and followed Dean back down the stairs outside the auditorium and back to the car, only stumbling once or twice.

* * *

Stephanie headed down the stairs of the Young's split-entry home and hung a right, glancing at the door to her left before knocking on the one just in front of her. "Hey, Dani, it's me."

The door opened and Danielle appeared, looking just as tired as always. "Hey," she replied, and even her voice sounded weary. "What's up?"

Biting her lip, Stephanie considered whether or not this was a bad time, but she knew that this was pretty much her only chance and she couldn't think of anyone else she'd dare talking to about this. "Can — can I come in?"

Danielle eyed her for a moment, and Stephanie saw something in her eyes that always made her think the older girl could sense her very thoughts. The something in her eyes shifted and Danielle's posture did, too. "All right," she said at long last.

"Thanks," Stephanie said, moving into Danielle's room. It wasn't very large, containing a door that actually led outside and a simple twin-size bed along with a desk, wardrobe, bookcase and several shelves lining two of the walls. Stephanie couldn't help the small ache in her heart as she remembered Danielle's loss seven months ago, just after her arm had been broken, and just before Gary had committed suicide. It had changed the brunette in ways that no one could've predicted, least of all Stephanie.

"I know I'm not the same as I used to be," Danielle said softly. "Do you think you would be?"

Stephanie bit her lip as she stared at her friend. She was six years younger than Danielle, but she had known the other girl her entire life. "I don't think so," she answered just as softly.

"I know," Danielle said, her voice lacking the coldness it seemed to carry with it most of the time. "So, what'd you want to ask?"

Stephanie sat down on Danielle's bed and swallowed hard, suddenly very nervous. "You remember when Gary… when he died?"

There was actual sadness in Danielle's eyes as she also sat down on the bed. "Just a week after…" She trailed off, but Stephanie knew what she was going to say. _Just a week after Jared died._

"Yeah," Stephanie whispered. "Anyway, since then… You've heard about the accidents at school?"

Danielle nodded.

"And uh…" This was harder than she had expected. "Do you… believe in ghosts?"

Danielle was silent for a long moment. "Gary's doing it? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

Stephanie took a deep breath and nodded. "He said he wouldn't hurt me, but those bullies? Everyone who never gave him the time of day or just stood back and let things happen? They're the ones getting hurt, the ones dying." She stared at Danielle and tugged at the ends of her ponytail.

There was a pause. "I don't know how to help," Danielle finally said. "This situation…" She trailed off with a strange frown on her face that Stephanie couldn't quite figure out.

"But you _get_ people," she said, reaching out and placing her hand on Danielle's shoulder. "You always have, especially over the last year."

"That doesn't mean I could reason with a spirit," Danielle said, her lips quirking upwards ever so slightly. "We don't even know if I —" She broke off and stood, walking to the other side of her room before turning back to Stephanie, arms crossed tightly across her chest.

"If what?"

Danielle pressed her lips together before uncrossing her arms and tugging on her own long ponytail. "I'm empathic," she said.

Stephanie blinked. "Like, feeling the emotions of other people?"

"Yes." Danielle didn't move, just stood and stared at Stephanie. "Started about a year ago after all those really bad headaches."

Stephanie remembered those. "So you know exactly what I'm feeling right now?" she managed to ask after a moment.

"I block people out most of the time," Danielle answered, "but if I wanted to know, then yeah." There was another moment of silence. "You believe me."

"The way you look at people sometimes," Stephanie said softly. "It's like you understand exactly what they can't always say."

"I do," Danielle said just as quietly. "Understand people, I mean, but I don't know if it's possible to sense the emotions of a spirit or not."

Stephanie bit her lip. "There's only one way to find out," she said.

Danielle's eyes narrowed slightly. "The auditorium's locked down right now."

Stephanie smiled slightly. "I have copies of the keys."

Danielle raised her eyebrows. "Do I even _wanna_ know how you pulled that off?"

"Probably not," Stephanie said with a snort. "So, d'you think you could try?"

Danielle stared at Stephanie again. "All right," she finally sighed. "I should be able to get there tomorrow by, say, three o'clock."

"That works," Stephanie said. "Thank you so much, Dani."

"Don't thank me, yet," Danielle said with a wave of her hand. "For all we know it won't work."

"Still," Stephanie said, standing up to throw her arms around Danielle in a tight hug, "it means a lot to me that you'll try."

After a moment, Danielle hugged her back, and Stephanie felt like she'd finally found a connection with her friend, again.

* * *

Judging by the lines around Sam's eyes, the medicine hadn't worked. Dean was disappointed, but he knew it had been a long shot to begin with. "We can wait until tomorrow to talk to Stephanie," he told Sam. "I'd rather you get some sleep and get over this headache, first."

Sam sighed. "All right," he muttered, not getting up from where he was lying on one of the beds. "This sucks."

"I know," Dean said sympathetically. "Maybe we'll find one of those other special kids and they'll have empathy skills you can learn from."

"That'd be very lucky," Sam said, "and highly unlikely. I know there's supposed to be another psychic around here, but the search isn't as easy as it was in other places."

"This hasn't been easy at all," Dean told Sam. Weeks of research and searching, only to find every special child was somewhere else or dead? Anything but easy.

"Trust me," Sam said, closing his eyes and smiling slightly, "this one's makin' the other cities feel like a cakewalk."

"Fantastic," Dean muttered. "Okay, I'm gonna go get dinner. Want some Subway?"

"Sure," Sam said, "whatever."

Finally, something with decent substance in it. Dean told Sam he'd be back in a few and headed out. Yeah, it sucked that Sam couldn't control the empathy, but if he was willing to go for a real sandwich, then who was Dean to complain? No matter what happened, he was gonna find a way to get Sam back on his feet 100%.

When he returned to the motel, Sam was asleep, and although Dean hated to wake him, he knew Sam needed the food just a little bit more to give his body strength. "Wake up, Sammy," he said, setting the sandwich on the nightstand and shaking Sam's shoulder gently. "It's food time right now, not sleepy time."

"I only dozed off," Sam mumbled, slowly opening his eyes. "Been a long day."

"For you, definitely," Dean said, patting Sam's shoulder and heading over to the table. "You mind if I take a look at the potential parents you found?"

"Go ahead," Sam said, waving his hand at his laptop. "Just — stay away from the porn sites, okay?"

"Absolutely," Dean said with a reassuring grin. "No Busty Asian Beauties for me."

Sam snorted and unwrapped his sandwich while Dean settled down in front of the laptop. "You've found twelve different couples that could fit the bill?" he asked, surprised.

"I told you this one was harder," Sam said before biting into his sandwich.

"Yeah, you did," Dean sighed, leaning closer to read the list.

Dean kept an eye on Sam out of the corner of his eye, and he felt a swell of happiness when Sam actually managed nearly half of the foot-long sandwich. His brother was too skinny for his height still, but if Dean could help him find a way to keep it up, then maybe he'd finally put the pounds back on. Then it occurred to him that Sam's empathy might be more sensitive than usual, so he tamped down his feelings and returned his full attention to Sam's research until Sam fell asleep again. It was only once his little brother was asleep that he felt safe to really let his thoughts and emotions wander.

It had almost been easier to be angry all the time, rather than grieve for their father's death. And he _had_ been angry, still was, when he let himself think about it. John had sold his soul to Hell so Sam and Dean could live to fight another day. Some nights, Dean thought he should've made the Deal himself, if only because John had known more about what was coming than he had ever let on and was clearly better suited to protect Sam. Except he had trained Dean to protect Sam his entire life. He didn't know anything else.

And then there was the secret. Dean was still firmly resolved to never tell Sam that their own father thought he had to saved or put down. The kid didn't need to know that when Dean was already determined to keep Sam safe from whatever lay ahead. As it was, Sam's facial expressions when he thought Dean wasn't looking led him to think that Sam probably still wondered why he'd been saved while John hadn't. Did Sam still feel damned because of the whole demon blood debacle?

Sam shifted in his sleep, face peaceful in the faint light emitting from the laptop. He was never peaceful when he was awake.

The one thing Dean rarely allowed himself to think about, more than everything else, was how _tired_ he was. He was tired of demons and special children and demon blood and Azazel's plans and… He was tired of all of it. For the first time that he could remember, Dean found himself wishing that he and Sam could have the normal lives they'd once had. He wished that Sam wasn't having visions, that Azazel had never taken him away, that they didn't know about what Azazel had done to Sam the night he killed their mother.

But even more than the normalcy they'd had before that horrible night in that abandoned cabin, Dean wanted both his parents alive, living absolutely normal lives. He wanted Jess alive so Sam could propose to her and they could get married, have kids and work normal jobs. Dean wished he did something else with his life, like working in a car shop or maybe construction, dating a beautiful brunette as funny and smart as Lisa Braeden had been, maybe even Lisa if she was still available… Why did normal have to be too much to ask for?

Dean knew better than to dwell on it, but it didn't stop the wishing. He wasn't certain that anything could. It was over an hour later when he finally turned in for the night, dreaming of the normal he couldn't have.

* * *

_TBC_


	3. Chapter Three: When Paths Cross

**Demon Virus**

**Chapter Three: When Paths Cross  
**

**A new chapter. Finally! Please lemme know if you like!

* * *

**

Danielle met Stephanie just outside the auditorium around three o'clock as planned to give students like her younger sister and the school's faculty time to clear out so they wouldn't be noticed. Although they could both end up in a lot of trouble for doing this, Danielle couldn't help but feel curious about Gary's spirit. She and her little sister, Elise, hadn't known him as well as Stephanie, but he'd always seemed like a nice kid who didn't deserve the bullying he'd been through before ending his life.

"Do you really think he'll show himself again?" Danielle asked Stephanie as she quickly unlocked the auditorium door.

"Pretty sure," Stephanie said, "and only 'cause it's me."

She opened the door and quickly reached inside for a button that turned on the house lights at about 75%. Danielle followed her inside, looking around the large space. She hadn't been in there since graduating four years ago, and it still looked much like she remembered. She took a deep breath and lowered her mental shielding before nodding at Stephanie.

"Gary?" the younger girl called softly. "Can we talk to you? Please."

There was a long moment of silence and it seemed that Gary wasn't going to respond. Danielle could only feel her friend's emotions, and she couldn't help but wonder if this wasn't a waste of time.

"Please," Stephanie repeated, emotions swelling in a strange mix of sadness and desperation. "You know Danielle, you know she only wants to help."

The sudden onslaught of emotions caught Danielle totally by surprise. She gasped and stumbled, only just catching herself on a nearby chair. "Are you all right?" Stephanie asked, alarmed and concerned.

"Yeah, just…" Danielle sank to her knees and fought to bring her walls back up. "That was intense," she mumbled once she had it under control.

"That's how the man reacted yesterday," came a voice from behind her, and she whipped her head around to see Gary. He looked remarkably solid for a ghost, she thought absently.

"The man?" she asked, slowly rising to her feet and turning properly. "What man?"

"There were two, came in yesterday," Gary answered. "He did the same thing."

The same thing… "So, he's empathic, too?" she asked cautiously.

"If that's what you call it," Gary said with a shrug. "But he couldn't fight it like you did. I never got to show myself to him." He frowned slightly. "Why are you here?"

Danielle recalled the emotions she had sensed from Gary and tried to sort them out. "You… It —" She broke off and bit her lower lip. "It wasn't suicide, was it?"

Gary stared at her and Stephanie without saying a word and Danielle cautiously lowered her shielding just a bit.

"Wasn't suicide?" Stephanie said, voice sounding choked up. "Dani —"

"He never got caught," Gary said, ignoring his best friend and staring at Danielle. "The bastard got away with it, and no one knew."

"Gary…" Stephanie whispered, sounding annoyed by the swear word and broken by news that her best friend had been _murdered_. It had been a bitter pill for the younger girl to swallow before, and now…

Danielle cocked her head to one side as she allowed Gary's emotions to slip through the crack in her mind. He was hurt, scared, and so very, very angry, but it was directed at everyone who hurt him, intentionally or not. There was no way Stephanie could have known the truth, nothing she could have done, being stuck in the hospital at the time. Danielle remembered that almost as clearly as she did Jared's face when —

"Who did it?" Danielle asked, trying to focus on the matter at hand.

"Garren Turner," Gary whispered after another moment had passed.

"That senior last year?" Stephanie asked, and she looked truly horrified. "I thought he finally backed off after nearly getting expelled for what… what he did to me that day."

"He just got angrier," Gary said, voice still soft. "He followed me up there," he explained, pointing up at the spot booth. "I tried to fight him off, but we were alone and he suddenly had rope —" He broke off and turned away. "You need to leave," he said, and Danielle suddenly picked up a new level of emotion that was almost beyond description. "I don't want to hurt you."

"But, Gary —"

"Bring me Garren," Gary suddenly snapped, and when he turned back, Stephanie let out a gasp at the contorted expression of anger on his face. "I'll kill him, he deserves it. Now GO!"

Danielle didn't need to be told twice. "Goodbye," she whispered to Gary as she seized Stephanie's arm in a tight grip and headed for the door, slapping the button to turn off the auditorium lights as she went.

The metal door slammed shut behind them, only just cutting off the sound of a rising scream. Stephanie backed away from the door before slumping to her knees and dropping back on her butt. She was pale and shaking, tears sliding down her cheeks as she wrapped her arms around her shoulders. Danielle slammed up her walls before approaching her young friend. "Steph?"

"Garren killed him," the redhead whispered, and a sob broke free. Danielle dropped to her knees and pulled Stephanie close, allowing the girl to sob into her shoulder.

"It's okay," she whispered. "We'll figure this out, I promise you."

Stephanie continued to sob and Danielle placed a hand on the back of her head, smoothing it down the girl's long hair as she whispered comforting words. She had no idea what to do about Gary's spirit, but she'd do the research. She would do whatever it took to give the boy peace.

* * *

"She's not home yet."

Sam and Dean looked to their left at the next house's front lawn. A middle-aged woman with short brown hair that was slowly starting to streak with gray was sitting on a lawn chair near the fence, a book in one hand; the other was in a cast that stretched from the palm of her hand to just below her elbow.

"Excuse me?" Dean said.

"You're looking for Stephanie Tuttle, aren't you?" the woman said, setting her book aside and standing. Dean nodded in answer. "Her car wouldn't start this morning," the woman explained, "and she detests taking the bus like my youngest daughter does, so she's waiting for my other daughter to bring her home from school."

"Oh," Dean said, glancing over at Sam. "Should we wait? Do you know how long she'll be?"

"Not much longer," the woman answered. Just then, the front door of the house opened and another brunette who looked to be close to Dean's age stuck her head the front door.

"Mommy, when's Danielle getting back? Elise is…" The daughter paused and took a breath before starting again. "Elise is having problems with her costume and Dani's the expert —"

The mother sighed and ran her unbroken hand through her dark hair. "She'll be back in a few minutes. Tell Elise to be patient, all right?"

The daughter scowled, but nodded.

"Sarah," the mother said, sounding weary, "Ellie's perfectly capable of waiting just a few more minutes for help and she knows it. I'm sorry I'm can't be a more help." She lifted up the hand with the cast.

Sarah sighed, shoulders slumping before she nodded again. "I wish Daddy wasn't working," Dean heard her mutter before the door shut.

"Trouble with a child?" he asked, and the woman gave a dry chuckle.

"Elise is sixteen," she answered. "She and Sarah have Asperger's autism, so Sarah struggles with certain things, usually academics outside of history. I have to say though, I wasn't expecting trouble with that costume…"

Dean glanced back at Sam, who was gazing at the front door with a thoughtful frown on his face. "Elise isn't having trouble," he said quietly. "She just wants her sister to talk to her." Dean blinked at the words coming out of his mouth and even Sam seemed surprised by what he'd just said. "Your other daughter, Danielle, she went through some trauma recently?"

The woman appeared greatly startled by the question. "Yes," she said, "but how —?" She broke off as though she wasn't sure how to ask what she wanted to ask and frowned deeply.

Sam shrugged and looked away as a red '01 Pontiac pulled to a stop in front of the house. Two girls climbed out, one with dark hair and the other strawberry blonde.

"Hi, Sister Young," the strawberry blonde said with a subdued smile.

"Oh, there you are," said the mother, Sister Young, turning to the girls. "Danielle, Elise is struggling with her costume for the dance tonight."

"Is she really struggling?" Danielle asked as she pulled a backpack from the trunk of her car. "I get the feeling that it's something else entirely."

Sam stiffened next to Dean, though Dean couldn't imagine why.

"Sister" Young frowned and opened her mouth before snapping it shut. "Even if she isn't struggling with it," she finally said, "would it really hurt to help her?"

Stephanie watched the scene silently, eyes darting back and forth between Danielle and her mother.

"She just wants me to talk to her," Danielle sighed, slamming the trunk shut and throwing her backpack over one shoulder. "I made that costume two years ago, it's not remotely complicated for someone like Elise." Dean couldn't help but find the words a little callous. "Hey, Steph? Call me later and we'll talk more about, you know."

The redhead nodded uncertainly and turned to her house, stopping short at the sight of Sam and Dean. "Can I help you?" she asked, looking surprised and a little pale.

"Uh, yeah," Dean said, stepping forward. "You Stephanie Tuttle?"

Stephanie nodded, looking a little wary.

"We'd like to ask you some questions about your friend, Gary."

Something crossed Stephanie's face too fast for Dean to read it, but Sam's sharp intake of breath told him he'd picked up on whatever it was.

"What d'you wanna know about Gary?" came Danielle's voice from the front door of her home. Dean couldn't help but look her way, trying to discern the expression on her face. "He's dead," the brunette continued, "suicide. Everyone knows that."

Dean glanced at Sam to see he was also starting at Danielle, but with a very strange expression on his face that Dean couldn't make out, either. "How are you doing that?" he suddenly blurted, moving toward the fence and stopping just short of the rose bushes that lined it.

"Doing what?" Danielle asked, body language stiff and defensive.

"What's going on?" Danielle's mother asked.

"Sam," Dean said. "What are you doing?"

"Mommy, get inside, tell Elise to get the costume on and I'll look over it later to make sure she got on right, okay?" Danielle all but snapped like it was an actual order. Dean was surprised by it, but for some reason, her mother listened, picking up her book and heading inside, looking bewildered. Danielle set her backpack down and moved forward.

"What am I doing?" she asked, voice still cold.

Dean couldn't see Sam's face and for some reason, that really bothered him. He moved forward, noticing that Stephanie was moving closer, as well.

"You're blocking," Sam said, a troubled expression on his face. "Blocking your…" He let out a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a growl of exasperation. "I can't _sense_ anything from you."

Danielle's mask slipped ever so slightly and Stephanie inhaled sharply. Did everyone except Dean know something he didn't?

"Excuse me?" Danielle said, crossing her arms defensively.

"Stephanie doesn't believe that Gary committed suicide," Sam said, gesturing to the redhead. "She's scared and confused and worried about you and Gary, and everything I'm saying is making her ten times more uncomfortable."

"How'd —?" Stephanie gasped.

"I can't sense anything from you," Sam continued, ignoring Stephanie and focusing on Danielle. "How are you doing that?"

Danielle stared up at Sam for a very long moment. "Mental shielding," she finally answered, shoulders slumping ever so slightly. "Self-trained."

"Then, you're empathic, too?" Sam asked, moving a little closer to the fence.

"For about a year now," Danielle said with a nod.

"So you're twenty-three years old," Sam exclaimed, "and you were born one month premature."

Danielle's eyes widened. "How the hell —"

"Dani!" Stephanie gasped. "Language!"

Oh yeah, Dean thought to himself. This was Mormonville, all right.

Danielle rolled her eyes. "How the _heck_ do you know that?"

"Because there are others like us," Sam said.

"What?" Stephanie asked.

"Others?" Danielle said with narrowed eyes.

"They can do other things, like mind control and visions, but yeah," Sam said, "others."

Danielle stared at Sam for another long moment.

"I think you'd better come inside," she finally said, glancing over at Dean before returning her gaze to Sam. "You too, Steph."

Dean followed Sam and Stephanie around the hedges lining the edge of the front yard and met Danielle at the front door. Danielle paused, staring at Sam before sticking her hand out. "I'm Danielle Young," she said.

"Sam Winchester," Sam replied, hesitating before slowly taking her small hand in his large one. When Danielle wasn't shocked to death, Dean felt himself relax. "This is my brother, Dean."

Danielle nodded and opened the front door. "Come on in."

* * *

The first thing Sam noticed in the front room of the split-entry house was the old upright piano. It had a beautiful dark stain to the wood and an almost Victorian feel to it. "Do you play?" he asked Danielle, pointing to the piano.

Danielle glanced at it and nodded silently. "Have a seat."

Sam and Dean sat down on the loveseat, Danielle and Stephanie taking the armchairs on either side. "So," Dean said, rubbing his hands together and radiating discomfort, "what makes you so sure that Gary committed suicide?"

"He didn't," Sam and Danielle said at the same time.

Stephanie blinked and her emotions swirled.

"Ooo-kay," Dean said slowly, taken aback by the sudden twin-speak. "Are we in agreement there?"

"He was killed by Garren Turner," Danielle said calmly. "He graduated last year from Provo High, and he always was a bully to Gary."

Stephanie sniffed and quickly wiped at her eyes. "You cared about him a lot," Sam said softly, and Stephanie nodded.

"He was my best friend," she whispered hoarsely. "Garren hurt me when I tried to stand up to him."

"Yeah," Sam said, "I read about that."

"Can you block it at all?" Danielle asked abruptly.

It was strangely relieving, not being able to sense someone's emotions. "No," Sam said, shaking his head. "It's been about four months now."

Danielle actually looked a little sad. "It didn't take me that long to start figuring out how to do it," she said softly. "But it's been almost a year since…"

Sam smiled and clasped his hands together on his lap. "I started having visions about a year ago," he admitted. "Lost my girlfriend…" He cleared his throat and forced himself to meet Danielle's eyes while trying to ignore the sympathy coming from both Stephanie and Dean. "We uh, we each have a different ability," he tried to explain. "I know a guy in Oklahoma who controls minds, and I had a vision about a girl in California who stops hearts with a touch…" He shrugged. "Different things, all of us, but I'm… I'm kinda different."

"I'm starting to get that," Danielle said with a small smile. The icy mask she seemed to wear at all times was almost melting as time went on.

"So," Sam said, "we came here because of Gary's death and the following accidents, but we've also been trying to track down all the other special children like you and me. You…" He huffed out a small laugh. "Well, you were a little unexpected. This connection, I mean."

Sam felt awkward, totally off his center. He met Danielle's eyes again and could see a sudden softness in them.

"You've been suffering," she said, leaning forward slightly. "Has it been hard, not being able to control it?"

Sam's eyes started stinging and he nodded, blinking his eyes several times and looking down. "He's learned to control the other abilities," Dean supplied quietly. "Well, not the visions, there's never been a way to predict or control those, but everything else apart from the empathy we've managed pretty well."

"Your emotions are just beneath the surface," Danielle said to Dean after a moment of silence and Sam looked up to see her staring at his older brother with a thoughtful expression that was slightly unnerving to Dean. "It's easy to sense them if you know where to look. Which, since you're both brothers, must be pretty easy for Sam to manage. Overwhelmingly easy."

Sam nodded.

"But you don't let your emotions out very often," Danielle continued. "You seem to think you've always gotta be strong or something, so they're more concentrated than most people's." She bit her lip. "You've both been through a lot recently," she added. "You both lost someone you cared about."

"Our dad," Dean said after a moment, his voice rough. "Four months ago, now."

"Who did you lose?" Sam asked. "I couldn't help picking it up from family."

Danielle met Sam's eyes again. "My husband," she said softly. "Seven months ago."

"I'm sorry," Sam said.

There was a long moment of silence.

"We can help put Gary to rest," Dean finally said. "It's what we do, have done our entire lives, really."

"How?" asked Stephanie.

"We have to dig up his grave," Dean said, and he was truly apologetic about the whole thing. "And then we have to salt and burn his corpse. It's the only way to make his spirit go onto whatever's on the other side."

Stephanie nodded, pressing her lips together as the sorrow seeped through her emotions. She closed her eyes and Sam was unsurprised to see a tear escape. "He wants Garren," she said. "He wants to kill him, but I don't think even _that_ would be enough to make him stop."

"We went into the auditorium today," Danielle explained. "I'm guessing you two were there the day before?"

Sam nodded. "It was pretty overwhelming," he said.

"Yeah," Danielle replied with a knowing expression. "I could…" She hesitated. "I could try and teach you how to… block things. If you want."

"Please do," Dean said, sheer _relief_ coating the concern he had for Sam. "These days we can't go into public places together because he practically collapses from too many people feeling too many things."

"Sam?" Danielle said, looking back at him.

"I… Yeah. Anything you could do to help…" He shrugged and looked down again.

"It's even affected your eating habits?"

Sam hadn't made the connection before, and he looked up in surprise.

"What?" Dean said, leaning forward. "Is that what it is?"

"I've been doing this for nearly a year now," Danielle said. "I'm good enough to translate emotions into the thoughts that are accompanying them. It's what's been causing his food intake to decline. Also," she added, "it kinda happened to me, too, so I'd know."

"Great," Dean said, sitting up and smiling. "Well, not that you suffered," he added to Danielle, "but we're glad for any help you can give. Now, where's Gary buried?"

* * *

_TBC_


	4. Chapter Four: Black and White

**Demon Virus**

**Chapter Four: Black and White  
**

**This chapter was a struggle to write. I had a few different ideas before settling on what we have below, and I hope it reads well. Enjoy!

* * *

**

Another thing Dean didn't like about Utah were the high fences surrounding most of the cemeteries. Provo was no exception, its gates being shut tight at sundown with only two men running the graveyard shift. Not that they were going to be hard to sneak past, but it was still annoying.

Both Danielle and Stephanie wanted to come along, but Dean insisted it was better for just him and Sam to take care of this. "Digging up graves isn't all fun and games," he explained to them. "Also, do you _really_ wanna watch us burn your best friend's body to a crisp?"

Stephanie's eyes welled up with tears and she shook her head harshly. "You're strangely blunt," Danielle observed from the couch in Stephanie's home.

"It's a Winchester thing," Dean said with a shrug.

"No, it isn't," Sam snorted.

"All right, so it's a Winchester _man_ thing, Samantha," Dean shot back. "The distinction's important."

For the first time that day, Danielle actually cracked a real smile and snorted. Sam started. "Oh, _that's_ how you feel," he said, blinking.

"Is it too much?" Danielle asked, smile fading. "I can always block myself off again."

"No, please don't," Sam said at once. "You actually connect with people this way, and the pain…" He offered the young woman a sad smile. "It only gets better when you try to actually deal with it."

Danielle's eyes looked a little wet. "You'd know," she said softly, without any heat. "Were you gonna propose to your girlfriend?"

Sam seemed to hesitate before nodding.

Azazel had said that that had been Sam's intention before Jessica's death, but part of Dean hadn't been sure whether to believe it or not until now. Now, he knew and it actually hurt.

"You weren't to know," Sam said, meeting his eyes and shrugging slightly. "Demons don't always lie."

"Demons?" Stephanie said, eyes going wide.

"Yeah," Dean sighed. "Bigfoot's a myth, but there are plenty of things out there that exist, demons among them."

"Relax, Steph," Danielle said to her young friend, "it only makes sense."

"But it doesn't!" Stephanie said. "That's not what they taught us growing up, Dani."

"Does… Odin exist?" Danielle asked, looking up at Dean.

"Never seen him," Dean said with a shrug, "but that doesn't mean anything. We took on a Pagan God a few months back whose power came from an ancient tree the area's settlers brought across the Atlantic with them and expected a yearly sacrifice. We've seen things from folklore and legends, from Bloody Mary to the Hook Man and more."

Stephanie shivered. "I guess… I don't really know the world, do I?"

"Not many people know about everything that's out there," Sam said gently. "Chances are you wouldn't have ever known if not for Gary."

There was a moment of silence.

"We should get going," Dean finally said, rising from his seat. "The sooner we get this over with, the sooner Gary can be put to rest and the sooner Danielle can get started teaching Sam how to control the empathy."

Sam nodded and rose, as well.

"You'll call us?" Stephanie asked. "When it's done?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "We'll call."

The brothers left the Tuttle residence and settled into the Impala. "We got everything?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," Sam said, getting settled in the passenger seat. "Let's do this."

It was about a fifteen-minute drive to the east side of the town where the cemetery lay. Dean parked across the street at an abandoned building, and then he and Sam headed across the street with their supplies in hand.

It wasn't an easy fence to climb, but both brothers had practiced doing this kind of thing for long enough that they were over and onto the grounds within seconds. Gary had been buried on the west end of the grounds, so they made their way over there as quickly as possible.

The Matheson's couldn't afford a proper grave marker just yet, so there was only a tag in the ground, letting people know where the kid had been laid to rest. "All right," Dean sighed, dropping his bag and hefting up his shovel in one hand. "You ready to do this?"

Sam smiled faintly and held up a flashlight. "Yeah."

It was never easy work, digging up a grave, but thankfully the ground hadn't settled so much that it was overly challenging. They switched off about three feet down, so it was Sam who managed to hit his shovel against the top of Gary's coffin.

"Yahtzee," Dean murmured. "Let's get it open."

Sam managed to lift the top off and climbed out of the grave to stand beside Dean, who already had the salt and lighter fluid in his hands.

Dean stared down at Gary's dead body. "Only seven months dead," he remarked. "He looks really good."

Sam gave an all-suffering sigh. "It takes longer than seven months for a corpse in a coffin in a grave to decompose. He'd still look pretty good a year out."

Dean shook his head. "I still can't believe how strong his spirit seems to be," he remarked, opening the salt canister and beginning to dump it over the body. Sam didn't say anything, and Dean began to worry just a bit. He dumped the last of the salt on Gary's corpse and looked up at Sam.

Sam's eyes were unfocused, like he was listening or watching something in his brain.

"Sam?" Dean asked, hesitant to touch Sam without knowing what this was. "Sammy?"

"Gary knows," Sam suddenly breathed, eyes watering in pain.

Suddenly, something slammed into Sam and sent him flying. He hit the ground hard, but managed to roll into a crouch, coming face-to-face with Gary's ghost.

"I'm not leaving," he hissed, face contorted in anger, and then Dean was flying through the air a moment later. This wasn't good.

* * *

Danielle left Stephanie in her home over an hour after Sam and Dean left to salt and burn Gary's body. It was strange to think about, the whole idea of spirits and putting them to rest and all that, but Empaths weren't supposed to exist, either, and here she was, fully capable of feeling and reading the emotions of everyone she met, living or not.

Which made it all the more surprising when a knife was suddenly held to her throat from behind. "Don't move."

Danielle froze, hands lifted slightly from her sides. She couldn't sense anything from the person behind her, and it was probably one of the strangest things she had experienced since becoming empathic the year before, though not _the_ strangest… "Who are you?" she whispered.

The person laughed, and Danielle decided this person must be female. "My name's Tara," was the answer. "I'm a demon, and I'm looking for the Winchesters. Seem them recently?"

"A demon?" Danielle closed her eyes. "Is that why I can't sense anything from you?"

Tara chuckled. "We have emotions plenty," she answered, "but I spent time training myself on the off chance I ever had to cross paths with you. Pretty useful, right?"

"Sure," Danielle said, trying not to be sarcastic, although she was pretty sure she'd failed. "What do you want with Sam and Dean?"

"Funny story," Tara said. "I'm actually here to save their asses."

And that made as much sense as the idea of vampires who could step into sunlight without burning to a crisp. Unless they could… "What?"

Tara let out a heaving sigh. "They're gonna be in a heap of trouble very soon, and my father doesn't want them dying." Tara paused. "Well, Dean's life isn't a real priority, but Sam… He's too important."

"What's going on?" Danielle asked, feeling worried for the brothers more than she was worried for herself all of a sudden. "They're just salting and burning a corpse."

"You mean Gary?" The knife vanished and Danielle turned to see that Tara was tall with dark hair and blue eyes. "The job would be plenty easy if Gary's spirit wasn't unbelievably strong for someone who's been dead only seven months."

"Gary?"

Tara nodded. "Most spirits take _years_ to gain the level of strength Gary's got," she explained, "and you're probably well aware that Gary's anger is consuming him at an unbelievable rate."

Danielle nodded silently. "Why is he so strong?"

Tara shrugged. "I think it has something to do with geography and intent, but I couldn't say for certain. Point is, you're here, Gary knew you, and he's dead."

Danielle blinked. That didn't make much sense at all.

"Sam may be able to sense his spirit," Tara added after a moment, "but regular old rock salt rounds won't make him vanish for more than a few seconds. No way does that leave enough reaction time." The demon tilted her head to one side as she stared at Danielle. "Ever been to Oregon?"

Danielle frowned at the sudden change in subject. "What? No."

Tara pursed her lips. "The brothers are hanging around here for a while so Sam can learn from you?"

"Yeah," Danielle answered, "but how —?"

"Go to Oregon with them next week. I insist."

That actually angered Danielle in ways she hadn't expected. "You _insist_?" she couldn't help but snap. "You think that just because you're a demon you can order me around however you want?"

Danielle suddenly found herself pressed against the side of her car, knife to her neck again and Tara's angry face way too close to her own.

"You don't get it," the demon snarled, eyes turning black and oh _god_, she'd seen that before and she couldn't understand how she'd never put two and two together — "Your ability?" Tara continued, gaining Danielle's full attention once more. "It was _given_ to you the night you turned six months old. My father fed you demon blood, just a few drops, but more than enough to make you what you are today. Same with Sammy and every other special child out there like you, so _yes_, I _can_ order you around as I see fit because your entire _existence_ is of demonic making!" Tara abruptly stepped back. "Sam and Dean are on _what_ _side_ of the cemetery?"

Danielle struggled to find the ability to speak after that bombshell. Did Sam know about everything Tara had just said? "W-west," she finally stammered.

"Thanks," Tara said, finally putting her knife away. "Remember, Oregon, next week. Go with the brothers."

Danielle gave a shaky nod and Tara vanished. After a moment of shock, Danielle's legs finally gave out and the brunette slumped to the ground, breathing hard as the things Tara said and memories of a land-based oilrig on fire filled her mind.

It was in that moment she prayed for Sam and Dean's lives. There was so much she needed to know that only they could tell her, and, oddly enough, she couldn't help but feel an attachment to the both of them.

"Please, let them be okay," she whispered, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. "Please."

* * *

"There's an unusually strong spirit in Provo, Utah."

Tara blinked and looked up at the demon standing before her desk. "Excuse me?"

"A spirit," the demon repeated with a frustrated look. "This thing's only been dead seven months and it's already killed three people and injured another four."

Tara set her book down. "And this matters to me why?" she asked irritably. She hated it when her research time was interrupted.

The demon sighed. "The Winchesters are heading for Provo's cemetery to salt and burn the spirit's body."

Oh. "Are they aware of how strong it is?"

The demon shook his head. "Not really," he said. "They seem to think they can take it on with their usual weapons, but it's not only strong, but it's _really_ angry."

Tara sighed loudly. "And he needs them alive for the test next week." She thought for a moment. "There's a special child in Provo, right?"

The demon nodded. "Danielle Young. They've been in contact with her."

The only other Empath of Sam's generation. What a surprise.

"Then I'll start there," Tara said, standing up and stretching. Minutes later, she had Danielle Young pressed up against her car, telling her secrets she thought Sam might not have gotten around to telling her, just yet. Judging by the look in Danielle's eyes, she was right.

Seconds after that, she was in the cemetery, running towards Gary's grave and hoping she wasn't too late. Thankfully, Gary had only tossed Sam away from the dug-up grave while Dean was trying to shoot it with the shotgun.

Of course, Gary only flickered out for a few seconds before reappearing and charging at Dean with a howl of anger. Tara barely had time to react, flinging herself at the spirit and knocking it away. "GO!" she shouted at Dean, who instantly reacted and went after a large can of something flammable.

Gary turned his anger on Tara, trying to pull her out of her meatsuit, but she resisted, holding Gary down. "LET ME GO!" he screamed at her.

"Shut up," Tara grunted.

A few seconds later, she could hear the flammable fluid lighting up, and Gary stiffened right up, eyes wide and mouth hanging open in a silent scream before exploding into fiery ashes that dissolved instantly.

Tara slowly rose, taking in a pissed-off looking Dean by the grave and an exhausted Sam, still sitting on his ass ten feet away. She hadn't been this close to the youngest Winchester in months, so she was fascinated to see how underweight he still was. It'd been about four months since he'd gone through withdrawal, which meant he should've looked a lot better than he did. "Tara…" He trailed off, staring at her with what was clearly worry mixed with pain in his eyes.

"You know this is supposed to be survival of the fittest, right?" she snapped. "Azazel is only interested in the ones who are strong enough, and you're _supposed_ to be among those, Sam. You _felt_ that boy's emotions, you _knew_ he was unusually strong! You both should've realized this, especially if you have any plans of staying alive and in the damn game."

Sam glared at her. "I never wanted to be a part of _any_ of it," he retorted.

"Too bad," Tara said. "Don't expect me to do that again."

"We won't," Dean all but snarled, stalking over to Sam's side and glaring harshly at Tara. "You can leave now, we'll clean up here."

Tara eyed both brothers in speculative silence. "Learn from Danielle," she told Sam after a moment of consideration. "Clearly, you need it."

She left before Sam could reply, thinking of the report she'd have to send Azazel as well as the other thing she'd just done. Brady Miller was only expecting Sam and Dean up in Oregon next week, and she'd gone and told Danielle to go along with them. Brady would probably be pissed with her, but the deed had already been done. The moment she returned to her study, she had her cell phone out and was dialing Brady's number.

"Hey there, handsome!"

"Tara? You're not supposed to call me unless —"

"Yeah, I know," Tara cut him off, "no contact unless it's an emergency. D'you think I'm an idiot?"

"Every damn day," Brady said with good humor.

Tara laughed. "Right back atcha. Anyway, the reason I'm calling is about your test of the virus next week."

"I thought everyone knew that we're using Sam —"

"Yeah, I know," Tara cut him off again, "Sam's the test subject, but listen…"

"You gonna try and say we should use someone else when Azazel _himself_ insisted it should be Sam?" Brady asked incredulously and Tara had to work to conceal her temper.

"Seriously, Brady, listen. You know anything about any of the others?"

"Other what?"

"The other special children, you jerk!" She rolled her eyes and wondered why she was even bothering. "Seriously, though, Brady… Ever heard of Danielle Young?"

"You mean that Mormon girl in Utah?"

"Only other Empath besides Sammy?" Tara added with raised eyebrows.

"… Yeah. Danielle the lone Empath until you lot turned on Sam's switches before he was ready."

Tara grinned. "That's the one. Sam met her earlier today. She's already agreed to train him on how to control his own empathy, and I was thinking she ought to come along for the test next week."

Brady was silent for along moment. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that? I thought you wanted to add another special child into an already complicated test of the virus I helped spend _years_ developing for modern-day use."

Tara rolled her eyes. "Yeah, that about sums it up. I saw Sam tonight, and he looks like shit. It's gonna take more than a week of training before Danielle can help him learn to control his empathy properly. If anything, he needs her to stick close for a while."

Brady let out a long-suffering sigh. "This complicates things," he said, "but I see your point. I'll get to work on things, make sure we're ready for _two_ test subjects next week instead of just Sam."

"Good. I'll see you around." Tara shut her cell phone and dropped into her chair to continue her research. They only had about five months before they'd need to access that Devil's Gate, and Tara needed to find out everything she could about it before then.

* * *

_Sam._

_She doesn't know who else it could be but him._

_The scene is muted and blurry. There are two other people besides Sam that she can see, but she has no idea who they are or why they are here._

_But one is dying. And Sam is making it happen._

"… _always had to be you…."_

_There's a rush of white light shooting up from the ground, burning brighter than anything she's ever seen before and it _hurts_ so bad —_

Danielle's eyes snapped open and she stared up at the blank white ceiling of her bedroom as her head pounded. A moment later, she squeezed her eyes shut as she applied pressure to her temples, silently willing the pain to fade.

What on earth had _that_ been about? Danielle had had a few weird dreams over the years, but never about someone she'd only just met. And why was he killing someone? What was that white light coming out of the ground? None of it made sense, and Danielle wasn't sure she wanted to so much as try and find out.

It still didn't change the fact that she needed to talk to Sam and Dean come morning. They had called, like they had promised, and she knew they were safe and alive, but she wanted to see for herself, make sure that no bones were broken, that Gary hadn't caused any irreparable damage in his all-consuming temper.

Then there was the issue of what Tara had said.

Demon blood. Danielle didn't know whether to laugh or scream at the idea. She slowly opened her eyes and stared at the palms of her hands in the dim light of her nightlight. Apart from the empathy, she was normal. Right?

Danielle wasn't sure what to make of anything anymore.

The headache hadn't lessened much, so Danielle forced herself to go upstairs and heat up a rice bag to try and help her get back to sleep. If this headache was anything like the ones she'd had a year ago, then it was going to take some time and sleep to make it go away.

Thankfully, for once, the rice bag worked and Danielle was drifting back to sleep within an hour.

When she woke up again just after sunrise, she didn't remember the dream.

* * *

_TBC_


	5. Chapter Five: Fire Takes All

**Demon Virus**

**Chapter Five: Fire Takes All**

**We get to learn more about Danielle and what happened to her husband in this chapter, so lots of exposition ahead. Next chapter brings the main storyline into play. Enjoy and review!**

* * *

"Did a demon really feed us its blood the night we turned six months old?"

The question came out of nowhere and took Sam completely by surprise. He looked up at Danielle, who was sitting across the small table in his and Dean's motel room.

"Where did you hear that?" he asked, suddenly feeling wary as he leaned back in his seat.

"A demon," Danielle answered, face stony and emotions completely blocked off again. "Said her name was Tara."

Oh. Of course.

"It's true," Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair and shutting his laptop down. Danielle had called him first thing that morning, asking if she could come over and talk. Sam had figured it was going to be about the empathy thing, but clearly, he was wrong. "Ten years before you were born, your mother made a Deal with a demon named Azazel to save your father's life."

Sam had looked it up and found Lydia and Harry Young had already been among the potential candidates for this particular city. The couple had met at BYU in January of 1973 and started dating. Harry's heart had abruptly suffered from a condition wherein his heart had been expanding as he exercised, but the walls and muscles hadn't thickened and strengthened the way they were supposed to. His heart had stopped beating correctly for close to a minute before he was resuscitated, but the doctor's hadn't held out much hope for his life expectancy, especially given that it was the early 1970s and proper medical advancements to deal with what Harry had suffered just hadn't existed the way they did today.

The reports that Sam found said that Harry's heart started to recover out of the blue and completely healed within a week, and seven months later, he and Lydia were married. Five years later they gave birth to their first daughter, Sarah, who was carried to full term with no problems, and then five years after that, Danielle was born on May 8, one month premature. Their youngest daughter, Elise was born seven years after that, and was also carried to full term without issue.

"My mom?" Danielle said quietly. "But, how d'you know that?"

Sam sighed before explaining. "Your dad almost died from a type of tachycardia in 1973, and he wasn't supposed to live. His heart wasn't strong enough, but it healed itself within the space of a week and was called a medical miracle of that time period. Did you know about that?"

"Yeah," Danielle said. "My father always assumed that God did it through the priesthood blessing given to him by his home teachers."

"Priesthood blessing?" Dean asked from across the room, the many guns he and Sam owned already laid out to be cleaned on the bed.

Danielle glanced over at him. "It's a Mormon thing," she said simply before she turned back to Sam. "Are you honestly telling me that it wasn't God's will that saved my father's life, but a demon?"

Yeah, this was _definitely_ going to be complicated. "Demon's are fully capable of healing people or even bringing people back from the dead," Sam explained, "but they can only do it if someone makes a Deal with them, usually selling their soul to Hell in exchange for the other person's life." He paused before adding, "But that's not what your mom did, not exactly."

Danielle frowned and leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms with a frown. "Then what did she give in exchange?"

"You," Dean said, and Danielle whipped her head around to stare at him. "Or rather, permission to enter your family's home about ten years after the Deal was made. He did the same thing with dozens of other couples across the country, our parents included."

"So," Danielle said, "our lives… They're of demonic makings."

"I…" Sam hadn't thought of it quite that way. "Is that what Tara said to you?"

Danielle nodded silently, and Sam finally began to see how vulnerable she was under the surface. He'd felt it the night before, but Danielle had training as an actress so her facial expressions rarely seemed to match the emotions hidden beneath.

"In a way, I guess we are," Sam sighed after another moment. "Every last one of us were born in the months of May and June in 1983, and we were all born exactly one month premature. Every Deal that Azazel made was with the mother's to save the father's lives, regardless of whether or not the couples stayed together in the long run."

Danielle stared at him with the most open expression Sam had seen since meeting her the day before. "Why would my mother do that?" she asked, voice cracking with suppressed emotions. "Why would she make a Deal with a demon?"

"We don't know if every mother knew what she was getting into when the Deals were made," Sam answered quietly. "Some may not have ever figured out the truth because they were too desperate the save the lives of the men they loved. The only reason our mom knew was because she'd been born and raised to hunt down the supernatural like us."

"That, and the demon killed her parents and our dad in order to back her into a corner so she'd agree to it," Dean added.

"That's awful," Danielle said.

"Story of our lives," Dean said with a rueful smile, grabbing the nearest shotgun and unloading it.

"So your mom brought you up to know all of this?" asked Danielle.

Sam looked over at Dean, who slowly lowered the shotgun in his hands. Neither one said a word as Sam tried to figure out what to say. Dean didn't seem to want to talk about it, but then he also seemed to trust Sam not to say more than was necessary.

"She didn't," Sam finally said, turning back to Danielle and ignoring the confused expression on her face. No doubt she had been sensing all of that, as well. "She wanted to be done with Hunting. Our dad never knew the truth of what happened the night she made the Deal, but when Azazel came to my nursery to do his thing, our mom… she walked into the room and she recognized him."

"How?" Danielle asked. "Catholics say demons possess people, right?" Dean nodded his head. "So, was he possessing the same person?"

Sam shook his head. "Azazel's the only demon we've ever met who has yellow eyes. Every other demon's are black" — he almost stopped there at the torrent of emotions Danielle suddenly went through over _that_ little tidbit — "and our mom saw the eyes, remembered him and, I guess, tried to stop him, only he'd already done what he'd come to do." Sam swallowed. "He killed her, set the house on fire."

There was a long moment of silence as Danielle stared at him.

"It was our dad who raised us to know about the world of the supernatural," Dean finally said, setting aside the shotgun and rising. "We grew up trying to track Azazel down without knowing a damned thing about him." He headed over to the mini-fridge and pulled out a beer. "And when we finally caught up to the bastard, he possessed our dad and tried to kill me before kidnapping Sam for about a month."

"Oh my..." Danielle breathed. "Why'd he do that?"

Sam looked back over at Dean. This was always the hardest part, talking about that month in captivity, but he'd sworn to tell every last special child he met so they wouldn't be attracted to Azazel's plans. "He got me addicted to demon's blood," he managed after a moment, looking back at Danielle. "Turns out that drinking more of the stuff gives you other abilities."

"What kind of abilities?" asked Danielle, eyes wide.

"Exorcising demons with the mind," Sam said. "The ability to pull them out of their hosts and send them back to Hell. The only thing is that I ended up unlocking the potential to do other things during that month, the empathy included."

"You do more than feel emotions and have visions?"

"Mind control's the coolest one," Dean said between swigs of beer. "Oh, and the Hulk strength."

"There's also telekinesis," Sam said, reaching out with his mind and making the mini-fridge open, which made Dean jump. A beer floated out, the door shutting behind it, and seconds later, it rested against the palm of Sam's hand. "I electrocuted a detective to death once, too."

That one got a reaction out of Danielle, and Sam couldn't help but agree with her grimace at the thought. "A real detective? A law-abiding man?"

"He was trying to kill me to cover up his drug lord scheme, if that helps," Dean said as Sam popped the top off his beer.

"Drug lord…" Danielle shook her head. "Are there any parts of your lives that are actually normal?"

"I went to college for four years," Sam said before taking a swig of beer. "Fell in love, had a lot of friends, and then a demon killed my girlfriend so I'd go back to Hunting."

He'd never said any of that in such a callous way, and he could feel Dean's shock and unease in the silence that followed.

"I…" Danielle was clearly at a loss of what to say to that. "I'm sorry," she finally said. "It wasn't my place to ask."

"It's fine," Sam said softly. "You couldn't have known, and I… don't usually say it like that."

There was a long moment of silence, in which Dean began to feel awkward and out-of-place. "So," he finally said, "maybe you two should do some of that psychic bonding stuff and make Sam some mental shields."

Danielle snorted, amusement filtering through her own sea of emotions. "Ready to bond, Sam?"

Sam grinned around his beer bottle and Dean flushed with embarrassment. "Sorry, Dean."

"Right. Anyone want lunch? I'm thinkin' Arby's."

"Works for me," Danielle said. "I love their roast beef with cheese."

"Sweet," Dean said. "Play nice," he warned in a mock-serious tone before heading out of the motel room.

"He's incredibly awkward when it comes to emotional stuff," Danielle observed once the door shut.

"Yeah, that's Dean," Sam said with another grin. "Dad was the same, too. I really don't know what went wrong with me."

Danielle actually laughed. "I prefer sensitive men. Honestly, my husband Jared cried more often than I ever did."

Sam raised his eyebrows. That was the first real information Sam had gotten about the man Danielle had loved. "Doesn't sound very 'manly'," he joked.

Danielle grinned and leaned back in her seat. "I'll have you know that Jared was _plenty_ manly," she teased. "He went to school to train in lineman technology for about a year."

"You mean building and repairing electricity lines on the streets," Sam said, and Danielle nodded.

"The only reason he didn't go into it was because of his shitty driving record," she explained. "Total lead-foot. So, he started working on oilrigs over in Colorado and Wyoming, drilling for natural gas. He was also really good with cars and computers and stuff like that." She smiled sadly, but fondly as she continued to talk about the man she had loved.

"He sounds like he was a good guy," Sam said softly.

"He was," Danielle agreed. "He was about as tall as you, even, only he was definitely heading for premature baldness by the time he was thirty."

Sam grinned. "You have any pictures of him?"

Danielle nodded, snagging her purse and pulling out an old leather wallet. "Here," she said, handing over a small photo.

It was a wedding photo. Danielle's dark hair seemed to be around the same length, piled into sleek curls on top of her head and her smile was almost blinding in its happiness. Jared did indeed look to be around Sam's height, only with a very skinny-looking build and short brown hair that really did seem to be on its way to leaving forever. His smile matched Danielle's.

"You look beautiful," Sam said, handing the photo back.

"Thanks," Danielle whispered, looking at the photo before tucking it back into the wallet with gentle hands. "Loving him was so natural, even though he was socially awkward and dyslexic. I'm pretty used to social awkwardness, given my sisters, so that never bothered me. But that smile…" She looked up at Sam. "The only time he smiled like that in photos was when he was with me. It was my smile and no one else's." She blinked rapidly and looked away.

"He also taught me a lot about trust," she continued after a moment. "My sister's have been teased and bullied a lot because of the autism, and it… I was an angry child," she finally said. "It's not that I didn't trust people. I was always willing to trust, but it doesn't take much to _break_ that trust. Outside of my family, Jared was the only one I trusted with my life, and with him around…" She gave a small shrug. "Trust got easier. I wasn't so quick to judge people's misdeeds with him around. It was like… learning to let go of all that anger I had growing up."

Sam was silent for a long moment. "How did he die?" he asked, voice soft. Part of him wasn't sure if Danielle would actually tell him, but he couldn't help but be curious about it.

Danielle sniffed and wiped at her eyes. "It was an accident… at work. It shouldn't have happened at all, but one of the men Jared worked with…" She sighed and wiped at her eyes again. "I've never told anyone the exact details because it was so… unbelievable, I guess."

Sam frowned. "Unbelievable how?"

Danielle swallowed hard. "I was there, at the rig about an hour before Jared's shift ended to pick him up. His truck was broken down and I'd had work that morning after he'd left so I dropped him off and I got there early…" She blinked a few times and sniffed again. "The guy's name was Walter," she whispered. "He was a good worker, but that morning when I dropped Jared off, he was… different. It's hard to explain."

"Different?" Sam pressed gently.

"He didn't _feel_ like Walter normally felt," Danielle said. "I was pretty much an expert with my empathy and shielding by then, and the only reason I let myself sense the man was because of the way he looked at me. It was…" She sighed and shook her head. "You know Tara's eyes went black last night when we talked?"

Sam sucked in a breath. "That doesn't surprise me, it tends to happen when they get angry or want to show off."

Danielle smiled slightly. "It was dark outside, but I _swear_ Walter's eyes were black for a moment, just like Tara's, and then he didn't feel like Walter at all." Her hazel eyes met Sam's, and he could see the uncertainty and fear in them. "I got back to the rig the moment my shift at the local theater ended, and Walter still felt wrong, so I slapped on a hard hat and went to go find Jared, to beg him to leave work early, only these alarms started going off."

She fell silent, and Sam could sense more of her emotions leaking through her shields.

"It was Walter," she whispered after a long moment. "He was sabotaging the rig, and Jared tried to stop him, but Walter, he —" Danielle broke off as a sob escaped and she squeezed her eyes shut.

"It's okay," Sam said, quickly moving around the table and kneeling next to Danielle's chair. "We don't have to talk about this anymore."

"I have to tell you," Danielle choked out as a few tears slid down her cheeks. "You'll believe me, I _know_ you will!"

"Okay," Sam said, gently placing his hands on Danielle's shoulders. "What happened?"

Danielle looked up and met his eyes once more, her hazel eyes shining with tears. "He f-flung out an arm and Jared was suddenly p-pinned to the nearest wall, only nothing was h-holding him there, a-and then he — Walter, he l-looked at _me_ and he _felt_ so wrong a-and I…" Danielle swallowed again and drew in a shaky breath. "I tried to move forward, but he moved his hand at me and suddenly I was on my back, no breath in my lungs, over a thousand feet away from the rig and the wrongness was still there and then —" Another sob choked out and Danielle grabbed Sam's shoulders in turn. "The rig just caught on _fire_ and all the workers were close enough that they died. _All of them_."

Sam didn't say anything, wasn't sure _what_ to say.

"I called for help," Danielle whispered after a long moment, "and it took _hours_ to put out the fire." Tears started to stream down Danielle's face as she stared at Sam, and then she launched forward and into his arms.

Sam caught her easily, wrapping his arms around her as she sobbed into his shoulder. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, "I'm so, _so_ sorry, Dani."

That was how Dean found them five minutes later, his smile sliding off his face the moment he walked in the door. Judging by his emotions, Sam could almost imagine the question his brother wanted to ask. _What happened?_

Sam met his eyes and shook his head slightly as Danielle continued to sob in his arms. Her shields were gone, and Sam somehow understood that Danielle hadn't cried once since that god-awful day seven months ago, that her shields had turned inward as she closed off from everyone and everything because the shock was far too great to handle, the circumstances too unbelievable to accept at the time.

Demons. If Sam hadn't hated them before, he certainly did now. Regardless, he tamped down on his own emotions and focused on Danielle, knowing she needed support more than anything else at that moment.

When her tears finally slowed, her emotions were left feeling raw and stripped of everything but the absolute basics, grief and hollowness among them. Dean somehow managed to convince her to eat, and then she drifted off to sleep on Sam's bed. She didn't look peaceful, exactly, but the cold exterior was completely gone, leaving a face that suddenly looked younger than when Sam had first seen her.

Sam didn't say anything for a long time, simply watching Danielle as she slept. "It was a demon that killed her husband," he murmured to Dean sometime later.

"What?" Dean looked up from Sam's laptop, taken aback at the news.

"She told me what happened the day he died."

"A demon?"

Sam nodded and quietly told Dean everything that Danielle had told him. "Damn," Dean whispered. "That's fucking awful."

"Yeah," Sam sighed, retrieving another beer via his telekinesis. "I know."

* * *

The moment Stephanie saw Danielle the next day at church, she hurried her way, grabbing her arm and pulling her away from her family. "What happened?" she asked. "Is everything okay?"

Danielle smiled slightly, and Stephanie was suddenly aware that there was something different about her. She looked… sad, truly sad as though she was actually grieving. "Dani?" she questioned softly.

"I'm fine, everything's fine," Danielle said. "He's moved on."

Stephanie nodded. "I already know that, but what about you? Did something happen? Where's your dad?"

Danielle looked around the chapel for a moment before shrugging. "Nothing's happened," she sighed. "My dad had to go to work, but I don't know, everything's… well, I've got a lot of things to sort out."

"And Sam and Dean?"

"Still in town," Danielle answered. "I've gotta train Sam up a little, remember?"

"Who's Sam?" It was Elise.

"A friend I met the other day," Danielle said, her smile suddenly warming up a little. "Go on, I'll catch up in a minute, okay?"

Elise nodded, blue eyes filled with something between confusion and maybe hope before she turned away and headed back to her family.

"So everything's really okay?" Stephanie asked.

"Yeah," Danielle said with a small nod. "Really."

Stephanie felt her shoulders sag in relief. "You wanna talk about it sometime?"

Danielle shrugged. "Someday, I guess. I still need some time, you know?"

Stephanie did know; it had taken her close to a month before she was willing to talk to others about Gary after his death, but Danielle hadn't really been _dealing_ with Jared's death at all, so it was definitely going to awhile before she was ready to say anything. "I'm always here for you," she told Danielle.

"I know," Danielle said. She squeezed Stephanie's shoulder and walked away to join her family. Stephanie smiled and tilted her head to one side. Sam and Dean weren't LDS, but they seemed like good men, regardless. Maybe they were the kind of people Danielle needed in her life right now.

Stephanie rejoined her parents. "How's Dani doing?" her father asked.

"Better," she said. "We met these two guys a few days ago, and one of them… I think he's actually gonna get through to her."

"That's good," her mother said softly as Bishop Blohm rose to begin the sacrament meeting.

It _was_ good.

* * *

_TBC_


	6. Chapter Six: The Lure

**Demon Virus**

**Chapter Six: The Lure**

**So maybe the real action starts the next chapter, but we're getting there! Thanks for reading so far and please, enjoy.

* * *

**

Danielle managed to get Tuesday off at work, which was good because she really was not in the mood to pretend to care about customers that day. Instead, she headed over to the motel to do more work with Sam.

While he wasn't a bad student, Sam wasn't exactly the best student, either. Not that Danielle had anyone else to judge from except herself, but learning to block out the emotions of others with Jared's help and support had made it pretty easy for her. Sam, she had come to realize, was the type of person who _wanted_ to connect with other people. Up until meeting Jared, Danielle had mostly wanted to be left alone with her small group of friends and career while beating up anyone who hurt her family in any way. Danielle wouldn't call herself socially awkward the way her husband had been, but she wasn't anywhere near as open and sharing as Sam was, either. Hell, it'd taken her _months_ to talk about Jared's death, and she knew the person she had been in the meantime wasn't one people tended to connect with.

Of course, then she had to go and find out what made Sam so open.

"I'm actually pretty good at keeping secrets," Sam had told her Sunday night. "I didn't tell Dean about the visions I had of my girlfriend dying until another one happened, one that took place at the house we used to live in before our mom died. Most people we meet never know what it is that we do unless they get caught up in what's going on somehow." He had shrugged, uncomfortable but still willing to share. "I never told Dean or my dad that I had wanted to propose to Jess before she died. It took a demon saying it before either of them even _considered_ the possibility that I had found someone I thought I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.

"I also used to feel some anger towards Dean," he had added after a moment of silence, and Danielle had thought it was probably a good thing that Dean had been out getting food from Denny's across town at that moment. "I felt like I was just the little brother who always got bossed around and coddled and I hated that. I spent two years at Stanford without hearing a word from Dean or my dad and I thought I could make a life for myself, a life away from all this, and losing it…" He had trailed off and shook his head. "I know it wasn't Dean's fault, but when Jess died mere days after he reappeared in my life, it just… hurt.

There had been another moment of silence. "After everything that's happened, I can't even _imagine_ hiding anything from Dean," Sam had said softly. "And if I'm gonna stop Azazel's plans, then I've gotta be honest with any psychics like us that I find."

Now Danielle was getting a clearer picture of Sam's emotional make-up. The guy had definite guilt issues over things he couldn't control (Danielle knew how that felt), and he had gone through a journey from the desire of complete independence in a life of his own choosing, and into a resigned acceptance of not only the life he now led, but how he led it, with Dean taking the lead on most things. Sam had no one else he could trust, no one else he really _dared_ to trust.

Which, in Danielle's mind, opened up a whole other can of worms where Dean was concerned.

Dean tended to tamp down on his emotions, determined not to let them show, but the way he did it meant that when he blew up, it was _massive_. And then there was the overwhelming sense of responsibility. Sam didn't mean to add to it, but Dean took the job of being the big brother very seriously. Danielle had managed to pry more details about their mother's death out of Sam, and was horrified to learn that Jessica had died the same way as their mother, pinned to the ceiling with a slashed stomach before bursting into flames. She learned about how Dean had pulled Sam out of both fires and it helped to build up the image of who Dean was in her mind.

And then there was the _secret_. She didn't know what it was, and she could tell that Sam didn't either, but she could feel how it often weighed heavily in Dean's mind when he seemed to think that Danielle and Sam were too busy with their own devices to notice.

Danielle was an accomplished Empath. She noticed almost _everything_.

This secret, she had decided, related in some way to both Sam and their father. She didn't know how and she knew it wasn't her business to know what the secret was about, but she could tell that Dean either had to tell Sam what it was or forget it completely before it could do some inadvertent damage to his relationship with his brother.

"Can I ask a personal question?" Danielle said the moment Dean left to get food that Tuesday night. Sam still wasn't up to going to public places, even though he was starting to make progress, and was actually able to block out Danielle's emotions for a few minutes at a time.

"Sure," Sam said.

"I know it's not my business," Danielle began hesitantly, "but it's easy to tell that Dean's got a secret he's not telling you."

Sam stared at her, emotions swirling from something akin to frustration to a sense of resignation. "I know," he said quietly. "It's been there since Dad died."

"And you haven't been tempted to make him tell you?" Danielle pressed. "I know you've got that whole mind control thing goin' on."

"I trust Dean," Sam answered honestly. "I wish he wouldn't carry whatever burden this secret of his is about on his own, but it's not my place to make him tell me unless he's ready to say something first. Which, he just hasn't been." Sam gave Danielle a lopsided smile. "He's been incredibly patient with me through everything. The least I could do is return the favor."

Danielle nodded her understanding. "Should we try again? I think you're really starting to get the hang of it."

"Yeah," Sam said. "Thanks."

They practiced until Dean returned with food and spent the rest of the evening split between more practice and chatting. Danielle had never felt a stronger sense of connection with strangers in her life, and not just because they shared a similar sense of loss to her own. The brothers were just likable, from Dean's jokes and storytelling methods to Sam's little tricks and mind-controlled pranks on Dean. They were both strong-willed fighters with good morals and more swear words in their vocabulary than Danielle had ever heard from Jared's older brother or his father.

Being around them made her wonder what was waiting for them in Oregon all the more. And finding out the answer two days later… Well, it was a little scary.

* * *

"Oh."

Dean blinked, standing in the open doorway of the motel room, a six-pack of beer in one hand and a bag of food from Wendy's in the other.

"Huh?" he said, staring down at Sam, who was curled up on the floor next to his bed.

"Just figured something out," he said in his 'I just had a vision and my head fuckin' hurts' voice as he sat up and rubbed his forehead.

"And?"

Sam met his eyes. "It _was_ you I saw the first time I had it," he said, and wasn't _that_ just so explanatory.

"Sammy, you are makin' _no_ sense whatsoever." Dean finally moved further into the room, setting the food on the nearest table before taking a seat on Sam's bed and staring down at his little brother.

"The uh… those confusing visions I had back in L.A." Sam finally got off the floor and sat down next to Dean.

Dean raised his eyebrows, remembering Sam telling him about a blurred vision of Andy and Anson's confrontation in Oklahoma as well as another one that Sam just hadn't been able to make out at the time. "So, did you finally figure out what that second one was about?" he asked.

"Yeah, uh," Sam paused to run a hand through his hair, his right knee bouncing in nervousness, "you wasted a guy in River Grove, Oregon."

"Right," Dean said with a frown. "Any idea why?"

Sam shook his head. "You seemed to think he had something in him, I mean, there was a doctor in the room, but I just don't know why you did it."

"Huh," Dean said, frown deepening as he tried to imagine why he'd just shoot a guy. "Well, I musta had good reason."

"I guess so," Sam said with a shrug, "I mean, you don't just _kill_ people."

"Yeah, very true." Dean thought for a moment. "Dude, just when I think I got things figured out, you go and make things more complicated."

"Sorry," Sam said.

"Don't be," Dean sighed, reaching over and gently whacking the back of Sam's head. "You're my freaky little brother, so I guess it's just part of your job to make life more interesting."

Sam snorted and finally started to get ready for the day. "Anyway," he said after a moment, "based on the clarity of it, I think we got a little over a day before it happens, so no _huge_ rush or anything."

And _that_ was probably the most confusing thing Sam had said this morning. "You're predicting when the visions'll happen now?"

Sam's shoulders stiffened slightly. "Yeah," he finally said. "It just uh… it just kinda happened." And he was back to rummaging through his things.

Dean frowned. "I'm not…" And he sighed. "Dammit, Sammy, you _really_ make things too complicated."

Sam gave another snort. "No, your emotions do that just fine."

"Oh." _Right_. He knew Sam was working to block out Dean's emotions, but without Danielle's help he was still only managed a few minutes at a time. _I guess I'm not avoiding this chick-flick moment,_ Dean thought. "It freaks me out a little," he finally said, "all right? _Everything_ you can do, Sam, it's freaky! The list just keeps getting longer and longer, I mean, you _electrocuted_ that damn detective back in Baltimore, whether you meant to or not, and it was scary! I hate that you're goin' through this, hate the shit that keeps happenin' to ya, but I will _never_ be scared of _you._"

Sam _finally_ turned and faced him at the end of that spiel, and Dean was actually glad to see the tears that welled up in his eyes. "Promise?" he asked, sounding like the small, trusting child he had been so long ago.

"Yeah Sammy," Dean said. "I promise."

"Why's the door open?" Dean started and turned to see Danielle standing in the doorway.

"Don't you have school right now?" he asked.

"It's almost seven, Dean." Danielle said with raised eyebrows, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind her. "I've already done the school thing. What's up?"

"I had a vision," Sam answered. "We've gotta go to Oregon."

Something flickered across Danielle's face, but Dean didn't catch it. As was always the case these days, however, Sam did. "Danielle?" he said. "What are you hiding?"

Danielle looked up. "You're getting really good at that," she said softly before sighing and speaking in a louder voice. "Tara told me that I had to go to Oregon with you when she came at me with her big knife last week."

Dean opened his mouth, but wasn't entirely certain what to say and shut it.

"Just because a demon says something —" Sam started, but Danielle cut him off with a look that Dean knew probably booked no argument.

"It's better for you that I come along, anyway," she said, placing a hand on one hip. "You need more practice, and I get the feeling you're going to be interacting with more than a few people in the course of whatever this is."

"You have school and work," Sam told her.

Danielle shrugged. "I can email my teachers and find people to cover my shifts easy," she said dismissively. "Sam, you're progressing, but it's not enough just yet. I can help."

Sam didn't say anything, turning to look at Dean with the question on his face. What should they do? Dean didn't really know. Chances were this was going to be dangerous and he told Danielle just that.

"I know how to use handguns," Danielle replied. "Jared taught me when we were dating. Anything else I need to know I'm sure you can teach me."

Dean sighed. "All right, then," he said. "I guess you need to head home and pack up your things."

"Okay," Danielle said. "When can you pick me up? Or did you want me to just drive my own car?"

"You can ride with us," Dean said, "we'll travel faster that way. Will your parents freak over you road trippin' with two guys you barely know?"

Danielle burst into laughter. "Probably, but I'm 23, Dean. I'm not a child."

"I try telling him that," Sam said with a smile. "He still doesn't believe me."

"Shut up," Dean muttered with a roll of his eyes. "You go home and we'll be there in say, an hour?"

"Works for me," Danielle said. "And don't try to take off without me. I'll just follow you."

"You don't even know where —"

"River Grove, Oregon," Danielle rattled off instantly. "I'm actually pretty good at eavesdropping when I wanna be." She smirked and left.

"I like her," Dean said after a moment of staring at the motel room door. "You should keep her, Sam."

Sam huffed out a laugh. "Neither of us have an interest in dating, Dean," he said. "And no interest in random sex, either," he added with a grin before Dean could say anything.

"Stop predicting me," Dean grumbled and Sam burst into real laughter at that, headache clearly more than forgotten.

* * *

Lydia followed Danielle into her room. "I don't understand," she said, watching her daughter as she pulled a duffel bag out from under her bed and yanked it open, stepping over to her dresser to pack clothes into it. "You barely know these men."

"I know them well enough to trust them," Danielle replied without pausing in her packing.

"But you won't even say where you're going or why?" Lydia stepped forward and turned her daughter to face her. "Dani," she said, tightening her grip on Danielle's shoulders, "I know you've been struggling the last few months, but this kind of behavior isn't like you at all."

"I know," Danielle said, giving Lydia a small smile and pulling away. "But, I have to go, and it'll only be for the weekend. I'll be back in no time." She pulled open her wardrobe and grabbed a jacket and a couple pairs of shoes.

Lydia closed her eyes and rubbed at them for a moment. "Don't be scared, Mommy," Danielle suddenly said, and it was still surprising how she knew Lydia's feelings before she could voice them. "Sam and Dean grew up on the road. They'll protect me."

"Do you need protection where you're going?" Lydia asked.

Danielle shrugged. "Dunno," she answered.

"Danielle —"

"You know the one thing about you that has always frustrated me?" Danielle cut Lydia off, whirling around with a startlingly cold look on her face that Lydia had only ever seen directed at people like Gina West down the street. "Your obsessive worrying. I know you've told me how you've tried so hard not to be the worrywart that your mother was, but the way _you_ do it feels more like a lack of trust in me than anything else. Don't you trust me at all?"

Lydia felt her mouth fall open as she stared at her middle child. Danielle had been so different the last seven months after Jared's death, but this was bordering on total disrespect; Lydia knew she hadn't raised her children to be like that at all. And it wasn't that she didn't trust Danielle, but her daughter's actions since March had almost felt questionable at times. She swallowed hard and stared at Danielle silently, unsure of what to say.

"You think I'm lacking competency," Danielle said, the anger suddenly gone from her voice. "You think that my lack of true grieving the last seven months has made me erratic and cold."

Which wasn't far off from what Lydia had been thinking, but… "Dani —"

"I couldn't allow myself to grieve because..." Danielle trailed off, her expression suddenly lost and full of grief. "What happened to Jared... i-it was something that was too unbelievable for me to accept at the time. It was something even you couldn't have accepted as reality."

"What does that mean?" Lydia asked. "Danielle, why won't you tell me?"

"Because the things I've experienced are making me question everything I was taught growing up," Danielle answered quietly. Lydia opened her mouth, unsure of what she was even going to say, but then there was the sound of a horn honking outside.

"That's them," Danielle said, stooping to zip her duffel bag closed and rising again, the bag slung over one shoulder. "I have to go."

She strode towards her door. "Wait," Lydia said, reaching out and pulling Danielle into her arms for a hug. "I worry because I'm your mother and I love you enough that I don't want you to get hurt again," she told her. They stayed in the hug for a moment.

"I know," Danielle finally whispered, "but you have to trust me to know what I'm doing." She gently pulled away and headed up the stairs, Lydia following her.

"Was Jared's death an accident?" she asked as Danielle stepped out the front door and over towards the driveway. Danielle paused and glanced back.

"It was sabotage," she said, voice suddenly very uneven, "and my life was _spared_." And with that, she headed to the base of the driveway where an old black car was waiting. "I'll call you later, Mom, I love you," she called over her shoulder before opening the back door and climbing in. Lydia watched silently as the car did a U-turn and drove away.

_Sabotage_. Lydia remembered that the officials who investigated the scene hadn't been able to determine the exact cause of the explosion for some reason, and Danielle had said that she had only just arrived at the rig when it lit up. Now, though, Lydia considered the possibility that Danielle's reasoning for closing up the way she had was because she'd known what was going on and had been unable to stop it.

Then there was the comment about experience bring out doubt. Lydia didn't know what to make of it, and spent the rest of day pondering her daughter's cryptic words.

* * *

As soon as Dean hit the freeway, Sam turned, unable to hold off asking any longer. "You had a fight with your mom?"

Danielle was looking out the window, but glanced at him for a moment before nodding silently. She didn't want to talk about it, Sam sensed, not just yet.

"Hand me Blue Oyster Cult," Dean said, holding out a hand for the requested cassette tape.

"Dude, you just barely listened to that yesterday," Sam groaned, digging out the cassette anyway and handing it over.

"Not a fan of classic rock?" Danielle asked, and Sam saw a small smile on her face.

"It's the mullet rock that I don't like," Sam said, "and that's pretty much all Dean listens to."

"There's nothing wrong with Metallica," Dean said as the first notes of _Fire of Unknown Origin_ began to blare over the car's speakers.

"Dean, _everything's_ wrong with Metallica," Sam retorted. "Your music sucks."

"Right, and what was that stuff you were listening to the other day? Enya?"

Danielle burst into real laughter. "You _are_ emo, Sam."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I saw Evanesence on your iPod the other day," he told her, "and Avril Levine, and My Chemical Romance… Oh! You had Linkin Park, too."

"You're _both_ emo little girls," Dean commented, emotions stating he amused and fondly exasperated all at the same time.

Danielle snorted. "It's still better than _this_ song."

"Dude!" Dean said. "Seriously? What are the house rules?"

Sam rolled his eyes again and muttered the phrase.

"Sorry Sammy, I didn't quite catch that," Dean said, actually cupping his hand around his right ear.

"Driver picks the music," Sam sighed, "and shotgun shuts his cakehole."

Danielle's new burst of laughter was louder than the first. "That's your house rule? Who picks the music?"

Dean shrugged. "The Impala's home, Dani."

Sam smiled and looked back at Danielle. "The music's not all that bad unless he's stuck on his five faves repeatedly."

Danielle nodded, still grinning widely. "Kinda wish my family had that rule," she said after a moment.

"You let your family pick the music when you're driving?" Dean asked, and Sam could sense how appalled he actually was by the idea.

"Not when I'm driving in my car," Danielle replied, "but family trips to visit family? Most of the time it's Radio Disney or my dad's radio talk shows like Rush Limbaugh, no matter _who's_ behind the wheel."

Sam couldn't hide a wince and Dean shuddered. "I am _so_ glad that I'm not in your family with options like that," he said. "I mean, Hannah Montana? Yuck!"

"I'm surprised you actually know who that is," Sam said and Danielle snorted again.

"So, how long will it take to get to Oregon?" she asked.

"Uh, about twelve hours, I think," Dean answered. "D'you got money for a motel room if we stop?"

"Yeah," Danielle said. "No need to worry about sharing with a girl or anything."

"Cool," Dean said. "Well, not that I'm opposed to sharing unless _you _are —"

"Dean?" Sam said as Danielle giggled. "Shut up."

And the Impala sped down the road.

* * *

_TBC_


	7. Chapter Seven: The Test Begins

**Demon Virus**

**Chapter Seven: The Test Begins  
**

**_Now_ we've got some action coming up! Enjoy!

* * *

**

_It was cold. The stone floor was bare except for stray leaves, cobwebs and dust._

_No one had been here for a while._

_But she was there. White dress, white eyes, blonde hair…_

"_It had you be you…"_

_He raises his hand, eyes black with the only satisfaction he can get anymore because the people he loves are dead and gone forever. Now, maybe he can join them…_

_And then she's dead, too, eyes blank as she bleeds on the floor.

* * *

_

Danielle had mentioned that she didn't sleep very well in cars, but Dean had been under the impression that it was because they were too uncomfortable for her.

He didn't expect a nightmare.

It wasn't immediate. They were still about an hour away from River Grove when Danielle made a sound somewhere between a moan and grunt and shifted on the seat.

"She okay?" Dean asked at once.

He caught Sam's frown out of the corner of his eye, focusing on the road as Sam twisted in his seat.

"It feels like some kind of nightmare," he said at last, "but I can't tell what it's about. It's… weird."

Danielle groaned again and Dean glanced at Sam.

"Maybe we should wake her up," he suggested.

"Yeah," Sam said, still looking befuddled as he reached over the seat to grab Danielle's shoulder. "Dani?"

Danielle let out a gasp and shot up. Dean caught her wide eyes in the mirror.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Danielle nodded silently and looked away, rubbing at her forehead for a second. Dean caught Sam's eye again and instantly got the message: we're not gonna ask about it.

"So, we're U.S. Marshalls?" Danielle asked with a faint frown nearly an hour later when they drove into the city.

"Yep," Dean said as he parked the Impala on a street corner.

"Okay, good to know."

Just then, Sam sat up straighter in the passenger seat and pointed toward a man across the street who was putting together a gun on his front porch. "He was there."

It didn't take a genius to figure out what Sam was talking about. Dean turned off the engine and climbed out of the car, Danielle and Sam following suit. They crossed the street, Dean taking the lead without thinking.

"Mornin'," Dean called as they approached.

"Mornin'," the man returned. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah," Dean said, pulling out his fake ID. "I'm Billy Gibbons, this is Frank Beard and Cherie Currie — U.S. Marshalls."

The man frowned. "What's this about?"

"We're lookin' for someone," Dean answered.

"A young man," Sam offered as he was the one who'd had the vision, "early twenties. He'd have a thin scar just below his hairline." He indicated the spot with one finger.

The man seemed to hesitate. "What'd he do?"

"Well uh, nothing," Sam said. "Actually, we're looking for someone else, but we think this young man can help us."

"He's not in any kind of trouble or anything," Dean added. _Not yet,_ he thought to himself as his gaze was drawn to the man's forearm, or more specifically, the tattoo on the man's forearm. "I think," he said, "that maybe you know who he is, Master Sergeant." The Sergeant met his eyes. "My dad was in the Corps, he was a corporal."

"What company?" the Sergeant asked with an impressed smile.

"Echo 2-1," Dean replied.

"So can you help us?" Danielle asked.

After a pause, the Sergeant said, "Duane Tanner's got a scar like that, but he's a good kid, keeps his nose clean."

"I'm sure he does," Dean said, working hard to keep from sounding sarcastic. "You know where he is?"

They were given directions to the Tanner residence, thanked the Sergeant, and headed back across the street. Danielle somehow managed to trip on the curb and caught herself on a nearby telephone pole. "I thought you were supposed to be some amazingly agile dancer," Dean teased.

"I'm still prettier than you," Danielle shot back before frowning. "That's weird."

"What's weird?" Dean asked at the same time as Sam. Danielle pressed her lips together as though trying to stop from giggling and pointed at a word that had been cut into the wood.

"Croatoan?" Dean read aloud, and Danielle nodded. Dean stared at her, silently asking what was so important about a word.

"Seriously?" Danielle said, raising her eyebrows incredulously. "Roanoke? Lost colony? Everyone learns about that in history class!"

"I know history," Dean said defensively. "You know, the shot heard 'round the world, how bills become laws…"

"Dude," Sam said, "that's not school, that's _Schoolhouse Rock_."

Danielle chuckled and shook her head. "Roanoke was one of the first English colonies back in… When did it happen? I always forget dates and years."

"Back around the late 1500s," Sam supplied at once.

"You're both too smart for your own good," Dean muttered as he thought over their words. "So, you mean the colony where everyone disappeared and all they could find was that word" — he pointed at the telephone pole — "carved on a tree?"

"Yes," Danielle and Sam said at the same time. "There were tons of theories about what happened," Danielle continued, "from Indian raids to disease."

"But no one knows that really happened," Sam added. "They were all just gone. I mean, wiped out overnight."

Dean stared at the word on the pole again. "You don't think that's what's going to happen here, do you?"

"Whatever I saw in my vision wasn't good," Sam said, "but what could do something like that?"

"Demons?" Danielle suggested.

"What?" Dean said, feeling a bit like that one had come out of the blue.

"Tara wanted me to come to Oregon with you two," Danielle pointed out. _Oh yeah, that was true,_ Dean thought sheepishly. "Clearly, she knew something was gonna happen, and here we are, in Oregon like, a _week_ after she told me."

"Sensing anything?" Dean asked Sam at once.

Sam frowned and shook his head. "Everything feels normal, but that doesn't mean something couldn't be going on."

"Okay," Dean said, "we need to stay on our guard, then. Seriously, the moment either of you sense _anything_, you say so, got it?"

Sam nodded and Dean headed back to the Impala. "Let's go find this Duane kid."

"Maybe we should call for help," Sam suggested, "like Bobby or Ellen." Dean nodded and watched Sam pull out his cell phone. "Shit," he said, "no signal."

Danielle was instantly heading to the nearest payphone, and Dean watched as she picked up the phone, listened and pressed buttons before slamming the phone back into the receiver as she pulled out her own cell phone. "Line's dead," she announced, "and my phone's not getting service, either."

"Well," Dean said, "if I was gonna massacre a town, that'd be my first step."

"Not reassuring," Danielle sighed as they climbed into the car.

* * *

As soon as they pulled up in front of the Tanner residence, Dean was heading to the trunk of the Impala.

"You said you know how to use handguns," he said to Danielle, unlocking the trunk and lifting up the false bottom. "Prove it."

Danielle raised her eyebrows, but nodded as she climbed out of the car and headed to the trunk. Sam watched as Dean handed her a colt similar to his own, and they both watched as Danielle quickly dismantled and reassembled it with a good level of expertise. "Good enough?" she asked.

Dean nodded and led the way up to the front door of the house.

The moment the door was opened by a guy who looked to be Duane's younger brother, Sam could sense something… off about the kid. He glanced at Danielle questioningly, and she nodded silently.

"Can I help you?" the kid said, looking for all the world like a typical kid.

Dean held up his badge and asked if Duane was around.

"He's out of town," the kid answered, "fishing trip up by Roseland Lake."

"Are your parents home?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," the kid said, "they are."

"Who's at the door, Jake?" A moment later, an older man came into view with a genial smile on his face that belied the strange emotions that Sam couldn't make sense of.

"Hi," Dean said, "U.S. Marshalls. We're looking for your son, Duane."

"Why?" asked Mr. Tanner, smile fading ever so slightly. "He's not in trouble, is he?"

Sam watched Dean shake his head. "No, we just need to ask him a couple questions, that's all."

"When's he due back from his trip?" Sam piped up, still trying to understand what it was he was feeling.

"I'm not sure," Mr. Tanner answered, face oddly blank.

"Would your wife know, then?" Danielle asked.

"Oh, she's not home at the moment," Mr. Tanner said.

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Your son said she was."

"She's shopping right now," Mr. Tanner told Dean.

"Right," Jake said, looking just a bit embarrassed. "I completely forgot."

"When she gets back, is there a number we could reach you at?" asked Mr. Tanner.

Sam could feel Dean's discomfort with the oddness of the situation, and he didn't even have the entire picture. "We'll uh… come back later," Dean told the Tanners. He jerked his head for the group to walk away, and the moment the front door of the house was shut, his expressions matched his emotions to a T. "That was fucking _creepy_. Like, Stepford Wives creepy."

"Their emotions weren't much better," Sam said, suppressing a shudder.

"How were they different?" Dean asked.

"They were…" Sam trailed off and glanced over at Danielle. "Did any of it make sense to you?"

Danielle shook her head. "It was like they were _faking_ normal, only it wasn't like anything I've felt before."

"Yeah," Sam said, nodding at the description. "Definitely not demonic possession."

And then the emotions from within the house changed. Sam whipped his head around at the same time as Danielle. It wasn't demonic, exactly, but it wasn't normal human emotions, either.

"What?" Dean said.

"Something's very wrong in there," Sam said and Dean pulled out his gun at once, motioning for Sam and Danielle to follow suit. They headed around the back of the house, checking windows. What they saw was more than a little disturbing.

A woman, presumably Mrs. Tanner, was tied up in a chair, and her shoulder had a pretty good gash on it. Mr. Tanner was cutting Jake's forearm, and the blood from his cut was dripping onto Mrs. Tanner's own wound.

There was a sense of purpose to their actions, as well as excitement.

Dean burst through the back door, Sam just behind him with Danielle in the back. Sam was more than aware that while Danielle had training with guns, she had never killed anything before, especially anything that was human. Not that Sam had much more experience other than the accident back in August…

Mr. Tanner turned toward Dean with a scream of anger and raised the knife in his hand while Jake booked it for the nearest window. Sam heard Dean's gun go off a few times as he followed Jake to the window. The kid jumped right through it, rolled on the ground and was up on his feet, booking it for the trees. Sam aimed his gun, but the kid was fast and Sam just couldn't bring himself to shoot him or even use his mind control to make him stop or even come back.

Moments later, Jake was gone, vanished behind the trees, and Sam felt a mixture of anger at himself and relief. He turned around to see that Danielle was already at work undoing Mrs. Tanner's bonds, the woman sobbing as she was tried to cope with what had just happened to her. "It's all right," Danielle was saying softly to her. "You're going to be just fine, I promise you."

Dean was staring down at Mr. Tanner's body. "You get the kid?"

"No," Sam sighed. "He got away."

Dean finally turned to look at him. "Did you have a clear shot?"

Sam couldn't help but scowl. "He's a kid, Dean."

"A kid who was helping to attack his own mother," Dean snapped.

"Jesus, Dean," Sam snapped back, "I don't know what Dani and I were sensing from them, but killing him wasn't right!"

"Not him, Sam. _It._" Dean's expression and emotions were hard and angry. "This wasn't the time to go around with your whole bleeding heart thing! Why didn't you use your mind mojo if you weren't gonna shoot him? What if there are others out there like him? What if —"

"I don't —"

"That's enough!" Danielle cut in as she helped Mrs. Tanner rise. "Forget about Jake, right now we need to get to a clinic, she's been injured."

Sam swallowed hard before nodding, Dean's words stinging more than he wanted them to. "Let's go."

Sam helped Dean carry Mr. Tanner's body out to the Impala's trunk while Danielle got herself situated in the backseat with Mrs. Tanner, still saying comforting words to the woman as she waited for Sam and Dean.

The drive to the town's clinic was quiet and tense. As soon as Dean turned off the engine, Danielle was getting out of the car and helping the injured woman inside. Sam glanced at Dean.

"I'll get the corpse," Dean said, and Sam nodded, quickly moving forward to open the clinic door for the two women.

As soon as they stepped inside, Sam called out for help. A nurse with pale blonde hair and light blue eyes all but ran into the waiting room and gasped when she caught sight of Mrs. Tanner.

_She was in the room with Duane and the Sergeant._

"Oh my god, Mrs. Tanner, what happened?"

"She's been attacked," Sam said shortly.

"Dr. Lee!" the nurse yelled, and a taller woman with darker blonde hair entered the room. Sam instantly recognized her from his vision, as well.

"Bring her in," Lee said the moment she caught sight of Mrs. Tanner, and the nurse stepped forward to help them escort the woman into an exam room. Sam heard the door to the clinic open and Dean's emotions got stronger as he entered, presumably with Mr. Tanner's dead body in tow. He forced himself to return his attention to Mrs. Tanner.

"I'm Pamela," the nurse said as she helped Danielle settle Mrs. Tanner on the examination table.

Danielle smiled. "Nice to meet you."

Sam and Danielle stepped to one side while Pamela started to clean Mrs. Tanner's wounds. A few minutes later, Dr. Lee came in, Dean trailing behind her.

"Beverly, what happened?" Dr. Lee asked.

Sam found his attention wandering as Beverly Tanner described the attack and the emotions in the room began to build up a little. He couldn't feel Danielle's emotions at that moment, but there were still four other people and it was starting to feel a little overwhelming. He tried to focus on the techniques Danielle had been teaching him, but…

"Let's step out," Danielle said softly, placing a hand on his Sam's arm. Sam nodded tightly and allowed Danielle to guide him from the room and back into the clinic's waiting room. "You think you can focus enough to try and practice out here?"

Sam swallowed. "I can try," he said, sitting down while Danielle took the chair opposite his. They spent a few minutes in relative silence before Dean wandered in, breaking Sam's concentration.

"Try to relax," Danielle said quietly, "you're being too hard on yourself."

"You okay, Sam?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," Sam said. "Well, I'm trying to be." He sighed and rubbed at his forehead. "Maybe if the doctor and nurse weren't panicking so much…"

Dean nodded and dragged a hand down the side of his face. "What the hell's goin' on?" he asked aloud as Sam sensed Dr. Lee approaching.

"That's what I'd like to know," she said as she entered the waiting room.

"We're trying to figure it out," Dean said, looking over at her. "But…"

Dr. Lee sighed, emotions on a rampage through anger, grief and fear. "You killed my next-door-neighbor," she said sadly, "and you're telling me that you did it because he suddenly went crazy and attacked his wife."

"Pretty much," Dean said, "wasn't like I had much choice."

Dr. Lee closed her eyes tightly for a moment. "The phone lines are down, and I need the county sheriff. Do you have a police radio?"

"Yeah," Sam spoke up, "but it crapped out just like everything else."

"Great," Dr. Lee muttered, running a hand through her hair.

"What's the nearest town?" Dean asked.

"Sidewinder, but it's forty miles away."

"They're probably our only hope right now, then," Dean said, standing up. "I'll head down there, see if I can find some help." He looked over at Sam and Danielle. "You two think you can keep an eye on things here?"

Danielle nodded at the same time as Sam. "Be careful," Sam said quietly.

Dean smiled. "Yeah." He headed out of the clinic and less than a minute later, the Impala's engine was roaring to life as the vehicle drove away.

"Now what?" Danielle asked.

Dr. Lee sighed. "I guess I could do an autopsy on Mr. Tanner, see if I can find some kind of medical explanation for what happened."

"Works for me," Sam sighed as he also rose. He looked over at Danielle. "Keep an eye on Mrs. Tanner, okay?"

Danielle nodded at once.

"Why would you keep an eye on her?" Dr. Lee asked as she led Sam into her office. Mr. Tanner's body was already laid out on an autopsy table. "She was just a victim in all this."

"I know," Sam said, "but her son was _bleeding_ on her like he expected something to come of it. I just don't want to take any unnecessary risks, that's all."

Dr. Lee nodded silently and Sam sat back, watching her as she performed her autopsy.

It wasn't until the doctor was looking at blood samples through a microscope that she said anything. "That's… huh."

Her emotions swayed between intrigued and confused.

"What?" Sam asked.

"His lymphocyte percentage is pretty high." She sat back and looked over at Sam. "His body was fighting off a viral infection."

"Viral," Sam echoed. "Can you tell what kind?"

Dr. Lee shook her head. "I don't know of any that would cause that level of violence. Dementia, certainly, but nothing that could do this to the blood."

"Do what?"

Dr. Lee swallowed. "There's this weird residue. If I didn't know any better…" She was concerned by whatever she was about to say. "I'd say it was sulfur."

"Sulfer," Sam whispered, feeling shocked. Danielle had suggested demons, but there hadn't been anything to really indicate anything like that apart from Tara's "advice" a week ago. Unless… Sam quickly excused himself and returned to the waiting room, pulling his dad's journal out of his jacket. He suddenly had the vague recollection of something to do with "Croatoan" in it, and he was pretty sure that whatever John had written, it had to have something that could explain what might be going on here.

He settled into a chair, flipped open the journal, and began to read while waiting for Dean. The sooner they got out of this town, the better for all of them.

* * *

_TBC_


	8. Chapter Eight: Not That Different

**Demon Virus**

**Chapter Eight: Not That Different  
**

**I can't think of anything to say. Just, read and enjoy! Oh, and parts of dialogue may be similar to 2.09 "Croatoan".  


* * *

**

"So, you three are U.S. Marshalls?"

Danielle looked up at Pamela, who was currently holding an ice pack to Beverly's side. Apparently, Jake had kicked her there when she tried to run. The whole thing made Danielle a little sick to her stomach.

"Yeah," Danielle answered.

"Why'd you come here?"

Danielle glanced at Beverly. "We're looking for Duane," she said. "We believe he has information that could help us find someone else, only now with what's happened here…" She trailed off and shrugged.

"What happened to Jake?" Beverly asked softly.

"He got away," Danielle answered. "My partners have more experience than I do, but Sam never kills unless his own life is threatened. Jake chose to run for it while your husband…" She trailed of uncomfortably. "Well, you saw that."

Beverly choked out a small sob and dropped her head into her hands, faded blonde hair swinging forward to hide her face. "Why would they do that to me?" she whispered, feeling confused and hurt and more than a little scared.

"I don't know," Danielle sighed. "But I swear we'll figure it out."

Beverly nodded, but didn't lift her head.

"So, what happens now?" Pamela asked.

"Dean's heading out to Sidewinder in search of help," Danielle said, tugging on her ponytail absently.

"So, we're completely cut off from the outside world?" Pamela said softly, eyes going wide.

"Afraid so," Danielle said. "We got no cell phone reception, the phone lines are down and our police radio's crapped out, too. I've never seen anything like it."

Beverly raised her head. "Do you think there are others out there like Jake and my husband?"

Danielle bit her lip. "Could be," she said after a long moment. "We won't know anything for certain until Dean gets back. Until then, no one should leave the clinic for any reason."

"But my boyfriend," Pamela said, suddenly beginning to panic.

"I'm sorry," Danielle cut her off. "We have to stay here until we know it's safe."

The three women lapsed into silence, and after a few minutes, Danielle began to wonder what Sam was up to. He seemed deeply intent on figuring something out, but she wasn't certain what that could be. She scrubbed at her face and turned to step out of the room for a moment.

That's when Beverly's emotions changed.

It was the suddenness of it that caught Danielle off guard. Her hand went to the gun at her back and she whirled around, lifting it just as the injured woman shoved Pamela across the room. Pam toppled into some shelves and they went down with her, and then Beverly was slamming Danielle against the wall, knocking the gun from her hands.

"I'm gonna cut you and end this," Beverly snarled, and Danielle suddenly found herself wresting with the older woman, who had somehow managed to get her hands on a large scalpel normally used for autopsies.

Unfortunately, whatever changed the woman's emotions also affected her strength, and Danielle let out a scream as the scalpel slashed deeply at the skin just above her breasts. Beverly drew back and raised the scalpel to her own arm, as though she was going to cut herself, and suddenly everything went… weird.

Danielle was beyond terrified, bleeding pretty badly, and she could feel Sam approaching, but he wasn't going to get there in time to stop Beverly from doing whatever she was about to do. Pamela was groaning, but she couldn't get up fast enough, and she could sense Dr. Lee, but she was too far away, as well.

That's when several things happened almost at once.

Danielle thought her head was going to split open.

There was a nearby supply closet door that slammed open.

Beverly was ripped away from Danielle and went flying into the closet.

The closet door slammed shut and locked itself.

Danielle slumped to the ground, staring at the closet door in shock, her head still pounding as she shook from a combination of adrenaline and something else she couldn't make sense of. Just then, Sam and the doctor entered the room. "Shit," Sam whispered, dropping to the floor beside her and reaching out to touch the cut on her chest.

"I'm okay," Danielle said, even though she knew Sam could sense that she really wasn't. "She cut me with a scalpel and was about to cut herself when —" She broke off, swallowing and rubbing at her pounding temples. She hadn't felt a migraine like this since her empathy skills had first developed a year ago. "Did I do that?" she asked softly.

She watched as Sam looked over at the closet door. Beverly was screaming, pounding at it, but it wasn't budging. "Yeah," Sam said quietly. "You did. C'mon, get up, we need to put a bandage on that."

"Actually, it looks like it needs stitches," Dr. Lee said. "She cut you pretty deep."

"Oh," Danielle said, blinking and looking down at the cut before hissing in pain and grabbing at her head again. "God, it hurts," she moaned.

"I know," Sam sighed. "Let's get you cleaned up and then you can lie down, take a nap or something. Pain meds won't help with this."

"Okay," Danielle whispered, and Sam pretty much had to carry her into another exam room. Minutes later, Dr. Lee carefully stitched her wound closed while she stared at nothing.

"I felt it when her emotions changed," Sam told her quietly. "I was starting to get up when I heard you scream."

"It made her stronger than she should've been," Danielle said, forcing herself to focus. "What could do something like that?"

Sam's emotions changed, and she got the message: they needed to talk in private.

"We'll have to check Beverly's blood," Sam told Dr. Lee. "It looks like the same thing happened to her as with her husband and son."

Dr. Lee nodded tightly as she continued to work. "Are you sure you don't want anything for the migraine?" she asked Danielle.

"Won't help," Danielle said. "I tried everything a year ago, but nothing ever worked besides sleeping it off."

"I'm sorry," Dr. Lee said. "I can't imagine dealing with that kind of pain."

She tied off the thread and smoothed a bandage over the wound. "I'll let you sleep now," she said softly as she turned to leave. Just then, they all heard Dean calling out and banging on the front door of the clinic. Judging by his emotions, something had gone wrong.

"He's got the Sergeant with him, but no one else," Sam muttered, staring in the direction of the front door. "I'll be back," he told Danielle. "Rest, okay?"

Danielle didn't want to rest, but her head throbbed again and she was forced to admit defeat. "All right," she sighed, laying down and pulling the thin blanket the doctor provided over herself. "I still wanna hear everything, though."

Sam smiled down at her. "I'll bring Dean back here in a minute." He left, Dr. Lee and Pamela following him.

* * *

Dean was pissed. Whatever had made the Tanners go nuts seemed to be affecting everyone else, too. Even more annoying was the Sergeant's presence. The man had military experience and chances were they needed him on their side, but his blatant distrust of everyone and everything was more than a little frustrating. Dean was _not_ the enemy here, seriously!

He returned to the clinic with the Sergeant in tow and started banging on the front door. A few seconds later, Sam came into view and he hurried forward, unlocking the door and letting them in. "What's going on out there?" he asked at once as the doctor and nurse came into the waiting room.

"No fucking clue," Dean groused, stalking into the clinic. "I feel like Chuck Heston in _The Omega Man_." He jerked a thumb at the Sergeant. "Sarge was the only sane person I could find and the crazies out there put up a roadblock. We're trapped." He looked up at Sam. "Please tell me you've got _any_ idea as to what's doing this?"

Sam glanced over at the Sergeant before jerking his head back toward the exam rooms. "Yeah, and it's not good. C'mon."

Dean left the Sergeant with Pamela and Dr. Lee and followed Sam back to one of the rooms. He was surprised to find Danielle laying on the table in there, the lines on her face speaking of a level of pain Dean had seen way too many times with Sam. "Something happen?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "A lot of things happened. First off, the doctor thinks it's a virus."

"Is it?" Dean asked.

"I think so," Sam said, "but get this. The virus leaves traces of _sulfur_ in the blood."

"So it _is_ demons, then," Dean sighed, scrubbing at his face. "A demon virus."

"Demonic germ warfare," Sam said. "Dani was right."

"Told ya so," Danielle mumbled. "Why else would you have a vision about this place?"

Sam nodded his agreement. "I was going through Dad's journal, and it turns out he wrote something about the Roanoke colony."

"What?" Dean asked. He'd read John's journal several times over the last year, but his memory wasn't exactly what Sam's was, so…

"He had a theory about Croatoan," Sam said, "thought it was a demon's name — sometimes known as Dever or Reshef, a demon of plague and pestilence."

"Okay," Dean said, "but why here? Why now?"

Sam shrugged. "No idea, but we've gotta find some way outta here so we can warn people, especially if it's gonna keep spreading."

Dean nodded. "This still doesn't explain why Danielle looks like she's got one of your famous headaches."

Sam sighed. "Beverly attacked her."

Dean groaned. "So she _was_ infected."

"It seems to be passed through blood to blood contact," Sam said, "and Beverly tried to do just that."

Dean looked down at Danielle, who pulled down the blanket to reveal a bandage on her upper chest. "She said something about ending this," Danielle sighed, rubbing at her forehead and scrunching her eyes shut. "Whatever that meant."

"But she didn't get you?" Dean asked.

"Dani…" Sam swallowed before meeting Dean's eyes. "She pulled a Max Miller and locked Beverly in a closet."

"Oh." Dean wasn't sure what else to say. He remembered when Sam had done pretty much the same thing to save him from Max Miller himself, but none of the others had ever shown more than the one ability. Dean rubbed at his face and tried to think. "So, we got a demon virus on the loose that's transferred through blood contact, and we know this was planned because of what Tara told Dani last week, but what's the point?"

"I don't know," Sam said.

Just then, the sound of raised voices reached their ears. "You're _not_ keeping one of the crazies under observation! We've gotta put it down before it can get to us!"

"That'll be the Sergeant," Dean sighed. "Does Beverly still feel like she's infected?"

Sam glanced at Danielle before nodding silently. Dean pursed his lips.

"Okay, then." He headed over to the closet that Beverly Tanner was locked inside of, feeling unsurprised to see the others gathered around it.

"What if this virus doesn't last forever? What if there's a cure? What if it goes away on its own?" Dr. Lee was saying as Dean approached.

"We don't know that," Dean cut in. "We don't know anything."

"Exactly," the Sergeant said. "We're not letting it live!"

Dr. Lee sighed and pulled a hand from her mouth down to her chin. "Mr. Tanner's already dead," she said. "I can't justify killing Mrs. Tanner, too."

"Except she tried to pass the virus onto my partner," Dean said. He pushed his way past the others, unlocked and then opened the closet door.

Mrs. Tanner was curled in a corner. "Please," she whispered, looking up at Dean and the others. "Please don't kill me. I — I'm just sick, I need help! Help me, Mark?" Dean glanced over his shoulder at the Sergeant, finally having a name rather than a title. "Pamela? Doctor, please help me!"

Dean hesitated.

"Dean," Sam suddenly said from behind him. "She's still infected, just… muted or something."

Still infected. That wasn't good enough. Dean clenched his jaw, pulled out his gun and shot Beverly Tanner in the head, killing her instantly. He turned to Mark. "Tell me everything you've observed about the crazies out there."

* * *

Sam returned to the room Danielle was in, feeling pleased to find she had finally managed to drift off. Dr. Lee and Pamela were taking care of Mrs. Tanner's body, collecting another blood sample to try and learn more about what was going on, see if there was anything that could be done to cure it.

Truthfully, Sam didn't think that finding a cure was likely, not with demons involved in all this. If he could only just _sense_ one and make them stop all this…

Dean entered the room, looking weary and feeling just as bad. "How's she doin'?" he asked quietly, taking a seat on the doctor's stool and dropping his elbows onto his knees.

"The headache's fading," Sam answered just as softly. "No bad dreams, either." He ran a hand through his hair. "She showed another ability, Dean."

"I know," Dean said. "And no one else has done the same." He looked over at Danielle's face. "It kinda worries me."

"You were worried when I did it?" Sam asked.

Dean sighed. "Yeah, though I can't say I ever wanted you to know that. It's just…" He looked back at Sam. "What if she's just as capable of everything that you are? What if she unlocks those powers and gives in?"

"What makes you think she would?" Sam asked in turn. "The fact that she reacted to save her own life earlier? I did the same back in L.A. with those demons, Dean." He leaned back in his chair. "Or how about her inner anger over what happened to her husband now that she understands what really happened that day? How's that different from what I feel about Jess or our parents?"

"I hear ya," Dean sighed, relenting. "Just, do you think Azazel could convince her?"

Sam looked over at Danielle. She was fairly levelheaded, but she had emotional weaknesses similar to his own and he had no desire to join Azazel's demon army. "I don't think so," he finally said.

Dean sighed again and nodded. "I guess we wait, then."

Sam nodded, as well. "We wait."

And they sat in silence.

* * *

"Do you have any idea where she was going?" Lydia asked Stephanie Friday afternoon. "I've been trying to call her…"

Stephanie looked truly sad as she shook her head. "I was up in Salt Lake last night when she left, Sister Young. How would I know?"

"She never called you or anything?"

"No." Stephanie sighed and leaned against the fence while being mindful of the rosebush thorns. "Look, the only reason she really connected with me last week is because of something at school."

"What happened?" Lydia, desperate to know anything that could help her figure out where her daughter had gone.

Suddenly, the young redhead looked nervous. "It's…" She swallowed before continuing, "It was something personal that only she could help with. Well," she amended a moment later, "her and the Winchesters."

"You mean those two men?"

"Sam and Dean," Stephanie supplied. "They grew up on the road with their dad, so they know a lot of this and that, and well…" She shrugged. "They were helpful, and Sam managed to reach Dani in a way no one's been able to do since Jared died."

"How did he reach her, exactly?" Lydia pressed. "What do you know about my daughter that I don't?"

Stephanie was silent for a long moment before sighing. "Sam… he lost someone he loved dearly about a year ago, so he understood."

"You lost Gary shortly after Jared died," Lydia pointed out. "Why didn't Danielle move on like you did?"

Stephanie pressed her lips together. "I don't know," she finally said. "She never told me what happened to Jared, but watching her over the last few days with Sam and Dean around… I think she talked to Sam."

"And this Sam helped her in a way that no one else could?" Lydia found that hard to understand. What did this stranger have in common with her own daughter?

"I think their losses were very similar," Stephanie said softly. "I'm sorry I don't know anything else, Sister Young. It's not for me to know your daughter's every move." She smiled sympathetically and turned to head back inside her own home.

Lydia was beyond frustrated. Her daughter's cell kept going directly to voicemail and the GPS on it wasn't working. What was going on? Where was her daughter? Was she in some kind of trouble? She tried getting in contact with some of Danielle's other friends, but none of them had heard anything, either, not even her closest friend from elementary school named Roxanne.

"I'm sorry, Lydia," Roxanne said over the phone, "she only asked if I could cover her shift tomorrow morning. She wouldn't tell me why or where she was going."

When Harry came home from work close to midnight, she expressed her fears once again. "We'll wait until tomorrow night," Harry finally decided, eyes oddly unworried and expression decisive. "Maybe even until Sunday morning. If we still can't get in contact with her, then we'll call the authorities, but for now, we've gotta trust that those boys are taking care of her, whatever's going on."

Lydia didn't like it, but she trusted Harry. She still didn't sleep any easier that night.

* * *

_TBC..._


	9. Chapter Nine: Under the Gun

**Demon Virus**

**Chapter Nine: Under the Gun  
**

**Real life... Gotta love it, right? Anyway, the action continues! Enjoy!

* * *

**

The sun had set before Danielle woke up, and Sam could sense how much better she was feeling physically. Her emotions, on the other hand, were more than a bit jumbled.

"I felt the same the first time it happened," he told her quietly.

Danielle took a moment before her eyes met Sam's. "How do you deal?" she asked.

"Dean," Sam said simply. "Even when he's freaked the hell out, he still does what he can to make sure I'm coping."

Danielle looked up at him before smiling slightly. "You don't worry that he'll get tired of it all? That he might give up?"

"That's the thing," Sam said after a moment's thought. "I _know_ he's tired. I mean, it's not like he has to say anything, and he doesn't hide it very well." Sam never let himself think about this particular topic, but that didn't mean he didn't want to talk about it. "Our dad sold his soul to Hell to save our lives, and it really weighs on him. I loved my dad, but he and Dean always got along better than I did. It wasn't like I wouldn't try, but we'd almost always end up arguing, and when Azazel kidnapped me, all I could think about was getting free and apologizing for everything." He ran a hand through his hair. "I always felt like Dean was the better son, like I never quite fit in anywhere, no matter how hard I tried." He looked away. "And then there's the fact that I've pretty much _always_ been Dean's responsibility, and it shouldn't be like that now that I'm older —"

"But you don't think you'd cope with everything without him," Danielle finished for him softly.

"I'm not strong enough without him," Sam agreed. "It isn't fair to him, and I hate that things are this way."

"But Dean's still willing," Danielle pointed out, and Sam smiled softly.

"I know," he said. "Sometimes it makes me feel even worse."

Neither psychic said anything for a moment. "You're lucky he cares so much," Danielle finally said. "Most older siblings aren't really like that."

"Sarah cares about you," Sam said.

"Yeah," Danielle said, "but given the autism, I think I'm one of those exceptions to the rule. You and Dean are fully capable in all areas of your life, but Dean has pretty much always been there for you. That's pretty rare."

Sam felt his smile grow a little bit bigger. "He's the best big brother I could ask for," he admitted.

"More chick-flick moments?" Dean said from the doorway, grinning tightly as he leaned against the doorway. Sam rolled his eyes.

"We can't all be awesomely butch like you," he teased, and Dean let out a snort.

"You feeling better?" he asked Danielle, clearly choosing to ignore Sam's comment.

"I'm feeling much better now," Danielle answered before glancing out the doorway. "The crazies still out there?"

"Practically surrounding the place," Dean said with a groan. "I asked Mike — the Sergeant — about fighting our way out, and he says most everyone out there'll have gun training. I think we might have to make explosives if we wanna get outta here alive. I mean, _Night of the Living Dead_ didn't end pretty, and I'd rather _not_ go the same way."

Sam sighed. "Well, this clinic should have what we need to make something —"

They were interrupted by the sound of someone banging on the front door of the clinic. "Help!"

"He feels normal," Danielle said, sliding off her makeshift bed and combing a hand through her hair. "I don't think he's infected."

"I agree," Sam said, leading the way out to the waiting room. Mike the Sergeant was opening the front door to let in —

"It's Duane Tanner," he called out to Sam, Dean and Danielle as they entered the room.

"That's him," Sam breathed.

"You mean the one I…" He made a small gesture like he was killing someone.

Sam nodded.

"Oh, thank God," Duane all but cried the moment Mike had shut the clinic door behind him. "Who else is here?" He started to walk forward and Dean had a brief flash of panic before he stepped forward to block Duane's progress.

"Easy there, cowboy," he told Duane, placing his hands on the guy's shoulders. "Doc, give him a good once-over, would you?"

"What?" Duane asked, genuinely confused. "Why? What's going on? Who are you?"

"Never mind that for now," Dean answered. "Doctor?" Dr. Lee directed the group into an exam room silently.

Duane began to protest when Sam spotted blood on his leg. "How'd you get that?" he asked, pointing out Duane's ripped and bloodied jeans.

"I was running," Duane said. "I think I tripped. What's going on? I went out fishing yesterday, got back this afternoon and saw Roger McGill getting dragged out of his house by people we know. They started cutting him with knives!" He swallowed hard, eyes wide. "I ran and hid in the woods and I only just —" He broke off and swallowed. "Has anyone seen my mom and dad? What about Jake, d'you know if they're okay?"

Dean stepped back and leaned over to Sam. "Awkward," he muttered and Sam pressed his lips together to avoid saying anything.

"We need to tie him up," Mike finally said, "we can't take the risk that he was infected, too."

"Infected?" Duane asked, eyes somehow managing to go wider as Mike left the room. "What are you talking about?"

Dean pulled out his gun and directed Duane to the nearest chair. "Did they bleed on you?" he asked.

"What?" Duane gaped and started shaking his head as he sat down shakily. He seemed so confused by everything that was going on.

"Is he lying?" Dean asked abruptly, turning to Sam and Danielle.

"Doesn't feel like it," Danielle answered softly. Sam stared at Duane before stepping forward.

"Did anything strange happen during your fishing trip?" Sam asked, willing Duane to answer him truthfully. "Anything you can recall?"

"No, nothing," Duane answered at once as Mike returned with some rope. "All the strange stuff happened once I got back into town."

"Do you remember coming in contact with anyone else's blood?" Sam asked next.

"No," Duane said, "I swear, I just cut my leg on a branch or something!"

"What if they got him before he left the lake?" Dean asked. "What if the virus is still dormant or something?"

"Did you sleep up there?" Sam asked Duane.

"Yeah," Duane said with a shrug, "two-day fishing trip, you know?"

"So they coulda gotten to him while he was sleepin'," Dean said.

There were too many questions and the sheer number of people in the room was starting to get to Sam again, only much worse than before. He turned away, scrunching his eyes shut and trying to focus.

"We need to get you out of here," Danielle said quietly. "Sam —"

Without thinking, Sam reached out blindly and snagged Danielle's hand.

Suddenly, the emotions around him muted significantly and Danielle gasped.

"You two all right?" Mike asked as Sam opened bleary eyes.

He couldn't sense Danielle's emotions, but her voice wasn't very sturdy when she spoke. "We're fine," she told him. "C'mon, Sam." She tugged on Sam's hand and he allowed her to guide him from the room, Dean following them.

"Were there too many emotions again?" he asked the moment they were out of ear-shot of the others.

"Yeah," Danielle said, "only Sam's capable of something else now."

Dean's emotions went in about seven different directions at once and Sam only felt confused. "What are you talking about?" he asked.

Danielle raised her eyebrows and lifted their connected hands. "I just became your mental shield, Sam."

There was a long moment of silence as both Sam and Dean came to terms with what Danielle had just said. Sam tried to tug his hand away, but Danielle surprised him by only tightening her own grip. "You're definitely not ready to go it alone right now," she told him firmly. "I can handle it, I promise."

Sam closed his eyes and forced himself to accept it. "So, what do we do about Duane?" he asked. "He was telling the truth earlier, I made sure of that."

"But he _could_ be infected," Dean said. "Duane's dad and brother didn't have any wounds on them apart from the one on Jake's arm when he infected his mom, so how did _they_ get infected in the first place?"

"I don't know, Dean," Sam sighed, "but so long as his emotional state doesn't change, then he should be fine."

"His entire family was infected," Dean argued.

"Which is why we should just leave him tied up until we know for sure," Sam retorted.

"Wait?" Dean said incredulously. "You wanna sit around and wait for him to Hulk out like his mom did on Dani? I'm not taking that chance." He stood up to leave and Sam felt the last of his patience snap. Without considering things, he silently forced Dean to stop.

"The fuck —?" Dean broke off and glared at Sam. "Stop that," he snapped, but Sam held his ground.

"Dean —"

"Jesus, you think I'm happy about this?" Dean asked, angry all over.

"No, obviously —" Sam began.

"It's a fucking tough job," Dean cut him off, "and you know it."

"Yeah, it _is_ tough, Dean," Sam snapped back, "that's the whole point. We're _supposed_ to struggle with this, especially when it's my fucking vision coming true!"

"And what does struggling with this buy us?" Dean asked with narrowed eyes.

"Guys —" Danielle said, tugging on Sam's hand.

"A clear conscience," Sam said, ignoring Danielle and focusing on his brother.

"Too late for that," Dean retorted and Sam felt his mouth fall open in shock.

"What the hell happened to you?" Sam asked. "You might kill an innocent man and you don't even _want_ to care about the repercussions?"

"The only thing that I want," Dean said, voice going quiet in that way that meant he was at the end of his own rope, "is for you to stop using your fucking Jedi shit on me so I can go and make the best decision I can for what remains of the sane people in this stupid-ass town."

Sam swallowed hard and relented at once. "Dean —"

"Save it," Dean snapped, striding from the room and slamming the door shut behind him. A moment later, Sam heard the lock click into place.

There was total silence in the room. "This is my vision," Sam breathed. "God, Duane isn't even infected."

"We aren't 100% certain, Sam," Danielle said softly. "Beverly felt completely normal until she wasn't. We don't know that Duane won't do the same."

Sam felt his shoulders slump. "That lock won't hold us," Danielle added after a moment, "unless you want it to."

It took a moment before Sam could meet Danielle's eyes. "I'm not gonna be able to reason with him after that," he told her. "He's older, he's not suffering from any problems associated with being a freak like me, and he's pretty much in charge, now."

"You're not a freak," Danielle said softly, and her eyes were kind as she squeezed his hand comfortingly. "I never thought you were."

Sam somehow managed a smile in return, even though he was still incredibly worried about what Dean was going to do. The fact of the matter was, however, that unless he wanted to make things worse, then the best thing he could do was step back.

"Thanks," he whispered.

* * *

Dean was well aware that the lock on the door wouldn't hold Sam in, but he got the feeling that neither he nor Danielle were going to come after him. Well, that was just fine. Vision or no vision, Dean had to make this call. He stopped outside of Dr. Lee's office long enough to check that his gun was properly loaded, and then he stepped into the room.

Duane was tied up, as expected, and the others were still in the room.

"Oh, no," Duane breathed, eyes so wide Dean was amazed they were still in their sockets. "You're not gonna…" Dean let off the safety. "No!" Duane cried, clearly panicked. "I swear, it's not in me!"

"Oh, God," Pamela breathed, "we're all gonna die."

"Maybe he's telling the truth," Mike said, taking Dean by surprise. All that talk earlier and he chose _now _to have second thoughts?

"I don't wanna take that chance," Dean said, wondering how he was still managing any semblance of patience. "We took it with his mom, and she almost infected my partner."

"My mom?" Duane whimpered. "She… she went crazy?"

"After your dad and brother got to her, yeah," Dean snapped.

"Oh my God," Duane mumbled, closing his eyes. "My family…" He looked back up at Dean. "That doesn't mean it's in me," he told him. "Ask the doctor!"

Dean looked over at Dr. Lee. "I… I can't tell," she said, and Duane's shoulders slumped as a few tears escaped and slid down his cheeks.

"Please," he sobbed, "don't."

Dean hesitated. He didn't want to take any chances, not after the kid's entire family had gone whacko, but he _was_ tied up, and he had two Empaths who could tell him in an instant if he changed at all.

"_We're _supposed_ to struggle with this!"_ Sam's words reverberated in his mind, and suddenly, he couldn't do it.

"Dammit," he muttered, putting the safety back on and turning away. "Keep him tied up until we're 100% certain he's clean."

Duane started sobbing in earnest relief, but Dean was done. He walked back to where Sam and Danielle were waiting for him, unlocking the door and entering.

"You didn't do it," Sam said quietly, not quite meeting his eyes.

"Yeah," Dean sighed, putting his gun away and taking the nearest seat. "I guess we'll give it a few hours, wait and see, you know?"

"Yeah," Sam said. The three sat in silence for a few minutes.

"So," Danielle spoke up, "how do we go about making explosives?" She looked between the two brothers. "That's still the plan, right?"

Dean sighed and nodded.

Four hours later found Sam and Dean working with Danielle to make explosives using potassium chlorate and other supplies they'd found in the clinic. Danielle had caught on pretty quick and was turning out to be useful.

"He still feel normal?" Dean asked abruptly.

He watched Danielle glance at Sam before nodding. "I don't think he's infected."

Dean nodded and stood. "I'll go untie him, then."

He headed out of the room and over to where Duane was sitting in his chair, tied up and silent.

"Gonna kill me now?" he asked dully when Dean entered the room.

"No," Dean said, working hard to keep his voice neutral. "I mean, unless the doctor's found something in your blood…" He looked over to where Dr. Lee was staring through a microscope.

"There's nothing," she told Dean, "no sulfuric residue or anything."

"All right, then," Dean said. "You're clean, kid. Let's get you outta these ropes, maybe get some food in ya."

Duane nodded as Dean started on the ropes, silently admiring Mark's knots. They really were a thing of beauty…

And then Danielle screamed.

* * *

"Getting more alcohol?" Sam asked as he worked on his next explosive.

Danielle nodded as she finished standing. "Do we need anything else?"

"I think we're good for now," Sam answered.

Danielle nodded again and headed into the dispensary to grab more bottles. Pamela had been in there for the past hour, organizing supplies so they'd have an easier time finding what they needed. "Hey," she said.

"Hi," Pamela said. "How the explosives-making thing going?"

"Good," Danielle answered. She reached up to grab what she need and felt the stitches on her chest pull, and she lowered her arm at once, hissing in pain.

"Lemme look at that," Pamela said at once. "You probably need the bandage changed, anyway."

"I'm fine," Danielle tried as Pamela pulled her back over to the table where Sam was sitting.

"Of course," Pamela answered, gently peeling the bandage off while Sam watched. The bandage wasn't soaked in blood, but there was still enough that Danielle figured it probably _was_ time to get it changed. "Sam, can you hand me a new bandage?"

Sam turned away while Pamela reached into her pocket, and then her emotions _changed_.

Danielle tried to jerk away, but it was too late. Pamela pulled her hand from her pocket, revealing yet another scalpel, and she cut straight through all the stitches Dr. Lee had done nearly twelve hours ago. Danielle couldn't stop her scream of pain.

Pamela slashed through her own hand as Sam whipped around, and then she was knocking him to the ground and slashing at his chest, pressing her hand against the cut she'd inflicted there before he managed to get his super strength in gear to throw her off. She slammed into a shelving unit, but seemed undeterred.

"Dean!" Sam yelled as he sat up, but it was too late. Pamela flew at Danielle, pressing her cut hand against the freshly opened cut on her chest, emotions filled with anger and excitement.

"I've been waiting for this since you two showed up," she hissed as the door banged open.

Pamela was suddenly torn away from Danielle with enough force to be caused by Sam's telekinesis, and she crashed back into the shelves. Not even a second later, Danielle heard Dean's gun go off and Pamela's body jerked as the bullet went straight through her head. She was dead instantly.

Danielle couldn't think straight as she stared at the blonde's corpse. She'd been infected the entire time and never once showed any of the signs. This virus was even more terrifying than it had been before.

"She got them both," came Mike's voice from the background. "They've got it. They've got the virus."

Danielle snapped back to reality, meeting Sam's eyes as she pressed her hand against the reopened wound to try and stem the renewed bleeding. And then she understood. Tara's instructions last week, the sulfuric residue in the blood, Sam's vision…

"This was all a trap," she whispered as she stared at Sam. "For us."

Sam swallowed hard and she knew he got it, too.

* * *

_TBC..._


	10. Chapter Ten: Never an End

**Demon Virus**

**Chapter Ten: Never an End**

**I have to travel for internet these days, otherwise I would've had this up sooner. Oh, well. I've got two more chapters planned for this story, so enjoy!

* * *

**

It took a fair amount of convincing to get the doctor to patch up Sam and Danielle, and Dean wondered how much more he was going to have to endure before it was just too much. In the meantime, he fought tooth and nail to keep his brother and Danielle from being tied up like Duane had been.

"Why are we just sitting here?" Mike asked, voice harsh. "She bled on them, they're infected!"

"So what?" Dean snapped. "We're not shooting my brother _or_ my friend!"

"They're not gonna be either of those for much longer," Duane said. "You said it yourself."

"Nobody's shooting nobody," Dean insisted, hands clenched as he looked over at Sam and Danielle, sitting side-by-side on the table in yet another exam room. Danielle was holding onto Sam's hand tightly with her own, and Dean figured she was acting as a mental shield once again.

"You were gonna shoot _me_!" Duane pointed out and Dean grit his teeth.

"You shut your piehole," he told Duane, "or I still _might_."

Duane had the good sense to look scared and even took a step back.

"You know," Danielle spoke up at last, "we don't know that it _will_ do anything to us."

"Have you _seen_ those people out there?" Mike asked, gesturing towards the front of the clinic. "They all went crazy!"

Danielle just rolled her eyes and looked at Dean. "You _know_ this was all a trap," she told him. "They _wanted_ us here. That's why Tara told me go with you, why Sam —" She broke off, but Dean understood. Sam's vision must have been rigged, somehow.

"You're saying you're the _real_ test subjects here," he said flatly.

"Test subjects?" Dr. Lee said. "What are you talking about?"

Sam glanced at Dean, silently asking if he should clear the room. Dean nodded and a few seconds later the doctor left the room, Duane and Mike following silently, although they cast suspicious looks over their shoulders as they went.

After a moment, Danielle spoke again. "Sam and I already have demon blood running through our veins, right? Does it sound so crazy that the demons might want to make sure that this Croatoan thing doesn't affect their future so-called soldiers?"

The thing was, it _didn't_ sound crazy at all. Dean sighed and ran a hand down his face. "So we wait and see if you're both immune?"

"Not much else we _can_ do," Sam finally spoke up, "I mean, unless you'd rather not take the risk and off us here and now."

"That's not an option," Dean said at once, mind at once going back to the secret he didn't want to ever think about _again_. He scrubbed at his face harshly and turned away. "I'm gonna tell the others to load up the explosives we made, snag the nearest car and get the hell outta here."

He started the leave the room. "Wait," Danielle suddenly said, sitting up straighter.

"What?" Sam and Dean asked at once.

Danielle hesitated before pulling her hand away from Sam's. "Those infected people were standing outside the clinic for _hours,_" she said, "only their emotional states were so flat they barely registered."

Sam nodded. "Okay," he said. "So?"

Danielle raised her eyebrows. "Do you feel them now?"

Dean watched as Sam blinked and sat up straighter himself, concentrating. "No," he breathed. "They're all gone."

"Because the test is already complete," Danielle reasoned, sliding off the table as she placed a hand over the bandage on her chest. "Tell me, how did Pamela go so long without showing any signs of being infected?"

Dean thought for a long moment. "You thinkin' that the demons've got some way of controlling it?"

"Well," Danielle said, "they've watched you and Sam before, haven't they? You said Sam can sense demons, but that sensory thing only reaches so far. There's enough mountains around that they could —"

"Could stand out of my range," Sam cut in, "and then they could direct the virus from afar."

"That sounds weird," Dean said. "I mean, controlling a virus?"

Danielle smiled slightly. "A week ago my life was pretty normal except for the empathy and the strange circumstances of my husband's death that I refused to think about. I'm willing to believe pretty much anything at this point."

Dean thought for a moment before shrugging. "I can dig it," he said. "So, if a demon could control the virus…"

"The demon probably would've tried to activate it in us by now," Sam said, "especially if we're really test subjects. I guess already having demon blood negates its affects?"

"Works for me," Dean said, clapping his hands together.

"Hey!" Mike came into the room. "They crazies vanished. There's no one out there."

Dean glanced at Sam and Danielle. "That's weird," he said, playing dumb. "No signs of them at all?"

Mike shook his head. "Stepped outside and everything. They're all gone, no traces."

Just to be on the safe side, Dean had Sam and Danielle wait in the clinic with Dr. Lee another two hours to make sure nothing in their blood changed. Meanwhile, Duane and Mike decided they were leaving the town together, and they packed up their supplies before taking off.

"I don't understand it," Dr. Lee said after the two hours had passed, "but you two managed to dodge a bullet there."

Dean smiled, even though he couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding. What were the demons going to do with this virus now that they knew it wouldn't affect the special children?

"I'm going to head to Sidewinder," Dr. Lee told them once she'd cleaned up, "get the authorities here — if they'll believe me, anyway."

"Good luck," Sam told her as she packed up her bag.

A few minutes later, the doctor was also gone.

"Well, I'm ready to get the hell outta here," Danielle said after a minute. Sam and Dean both nodded silently. As they left the town, Dean's eyes strayed back to the telephone pole with the word "Croatoan" carved into it and he had to suppress a shudder.

* * *

As soon as their cell phones got service again, Danielle's started going off, alerting her of multiple texts and unheard messages. "I probably scared my mom to death," she mused as they headed down the freeway.

"I bet," Dean said from the driver's seat.

Most of her text messages were from her long-time friend Roxanne, with a few from other friends she'd barely managed to keep in contact with after Jared's death, Stephanie included. All nine voicemails, of course, were from her mother. Once she'd listened to them all, she called her mother's phone and waited for her to pick up.

"Danielle?" Lydia's voice was a mixture of worry, relief and anger. "Are you okay? What's going on? Why didn't you call me back?"

"Mom, relax," Danielle laughed. "I'm fine, we just ended up somewhere with no service for longer than I expected, that's all."

"Where are you?"

"Oregon," Danielle said. She was beyond exhausted and felt emotionally drained, but she'd managed to hold her own and they were all alive and kicking, so she figured the exhaustion was worth it.

"Why did you go all the way up there? I've been worried sick, Dani, I almost called the authorities!"

"I wasn't out of contact for _that_ long," Danielle said, grinning a little.

"You left Thursday evening and it's Saturday afternoon," Lydia answered testily. "Your father stopped me from saying anything to anyone besides Roxy and Steph, maybe a few others. I don't know _what's_ wrong with him all of a sudden, but he was so convinced that waiting until _Sunday_ _morning_ before calling for help was just fine —"

Danielle's grin dropped off her face at once. "He said that?" she said quietly, leaning forward slightly and wishing her ability could stretch over phone connections.

"Yes," Lydia sighed.

"Has he said anything else weird lately?"

"What kind of question is that?" Lydia asked.

Danielle squeezed her eyes shut. "Daddy isn't the type to wait that long before reporting someone as missing," she said. "Call me paranoid, but I think something's wrong with him."

_That_ sentence attracted Sam's attention more than her emotions had. He twisted around in his seat and stared at her. "Mom —" Danielle started.

"Wrong with him?" Lydia cut her off. "What are you talking about, Dani?"

"I can't say," Danielle said, "not like this. Just — tell him I called and I'm fine, okay? Please don't tell him anything else."

"Why? Danielle, I don't understand —"

"And you'd never believe me over the phone like this," Danielle cut her mother off now. "Please don't say anything, Mommy. Promise me."

Lydia was silent for a long moment. "All right," she finally sighed. "I promise I won't say anything, but please say you'll explain when you get home."

"I will," Danielle said. "We're gonna stop at a motel a little later today, catch up on sleep, but I'll call tomorrow when we cross the Utah border, okay?"

"Okay. Love you, Dani."

"Love you, too." Danielle ended the call and slumped in her seat. "So my dad might be possessed," she announced in a flat voice.

"For how long?" Sam asked, still staring at her. "I don't think we ever met him."

"No, he started working longer hours at the mental state hospital a few months back," Danielle answered. "And honestly? I don't know. I spent so much time the last seven months trapped in my own head and I barely ever paid anyone else's emotions attention unless I thought I had to for some reason. For all I know, days, weeks, maybe even months. I just — I never noticed that he was different, not once and he went to Church almost every Sunday —"

Danielle broke off and ran both hands through her hair agitatedly as she watched the brother's exchange glances. "He's barely been around since you two showed up," she whispered. "What... what do we do if he _is_ possessed?"

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "We'll have to trap him," he said. "And really, it's not that big a surprise. Tara told us almost three months ago that every special child has an undercover demon nearby, keeping an eye on them."

Danielle shuddered. "For how long?"

Sam gave her a sympathetic look. "Since the beginning of July."

The worst part of it was that Danielle was pretty sure her father's late hours thing at the state hospital had started around then. "Can we save him?"

"So long as the demon hasn't broken his body in any way," Dean said. It wasn't the most reassuring thought, but Danielle clung to it, anyway.

* * *

He stepped out onto the road, forcing the approaching pick-up to slow down and stop. "Hi," he said when the two passengers slowly stepped out with guns in their hands. "Dude," he said to the younger of the two men, "stop hiding, it's over."

The man shuddered and shut his eyes before lowering the gun in his hands and revealing black orbs. "That was a successful test, right?" he asked with a smile.

"It was," the first demon told the second. "They were _both_ immune. They will be _most_ pleased to hear the results."

"What's going on?" said the other man, backing away from the two demons with his gun aimed at the first.

"There were supposed to be no survivors," the first demon remarked.

"The doctor's heading for Sidewinder," said the second. The first nodded.

"I'll see to her," he instructed the other demon. "Take care of him, would you?"

He left as the human screamed once before falling silent. He had a doctor to kill and other demons to report to. The success of the Croatoan virus would be most welcome news, he was sure of it.

Minutes later, the doctor was dead and the inhabitants of River Grove ceased to exist.

* * *

They stopped at the first motel they came across in Idaho and got adjoining rooms before Dean set out in search of food. When he returned, Danielle was sitting outside with a can of root beer, staring into space.

"You all right?" he asked her as he climbed out of the Impala.

"Yeah," Danielle said. "Could — could we maybe… talk later? Once Sam's asleep?"

Dean was slightly startled by the question, but he saw no reason why he couldn't agree to it. "Sure," he said. "C'mon, it's food time."

Danielle chuckled and followed Dean into his and Sam's room. Sam, for the first time in a long while, wasn't using his laptop or even reading some obscure book about symbols and wards or whatever was currently catching his interest. Instead, he was watching TV.

"Anything interesting on the idiot box tonight?" Dean asked, setting down the take-out on the table.

"Not really," Sam sighed, shutting off the TV. "I mean, unless you wanna watch Miss Congeniality again."

Dean snorted. "I'm good."

Little was said while the three of them ate their food, and eventually Sam drifted off, clearly exhausted by everything that had happened. Truth be told, Dean was pretty close to dead on his feet, and Danielle didn't look much better. Regardless, he followed her into her room and took a seat on the spare bed. "What's up?"

Danielle bit her lip before she sat down on her bed. "What's your secret that you won't tell Sam?"

Dean really hadn't been expecting that one. "Excuse me?" he said, staring at Danielle and thinking she was a little _too_ good at the whole empathic thing.

"I don't know what it is, but I can it's there," Danielle said.

"You're suddenly strangely blunt," Dean said, and Danielle rolled her eyes.

"Sam knows it's there, too," she said.

"Why hasn't he asked me about it, then?" Dean asked, starting to feel a little defensive. Danielle was a great girl, but it wasn't her place to pry like this.

"Because he trusts you," Danielle said, "but he can tell it's got to do with him and your father. Hell, _I_ can tell that much, and it bothers him a lot." She leaned forward a little. "Sam tells you virtually _everything_, and he trusts you to be there for him, to — to _support_ him while he struggles with the giant pile of _shit_ demons have loaded onto him. He doesn't think he's strong enough on his own."

Sam had never quite put it into words like that, but Dean knew he had no reason to distrust a single thing Danielle was saying, anyway. "What's your point?" he asked.

"Either you tell him what this secret is," Danielle said, "or you completely dismiss it out of hand. If you have _any_ doubts about him, then you express them or get over them. If you're tired of everything, then you — you _say something_ or learn to deal."

Dean clenched his jaw. He didn't like it, but Danielle had a point. "Fine," he said shortly, standing up to leave. He paused when he reached the door and couldn't help but turn back to look at Danielle.

"Do you think that you need to be saved?" The words tumbled out before he could change his mind.

Danielle blinked and frowned. "Like, saved from being killed, or saved from going over to the dark side?"

"Either," Dean said. "Both."

Danielle stared at Dean for a very long moment. "I think," she finally said, "that temptation's a bitch, but family is stronger." Her eyes suddenly softened. "You're a good man, Dean," she said, "and probably the best protector I've ever met."

Dean snorted softly, but nodded. "Goodnight, Dani," he said, turning to leave.

"Goodnight," he heard Danielle call out just before he closed the old motel room's door. Dean smiled slightly to himself as he got ready for bed. Danielle and Sam were like two peas in a pod, and they both seemed to know how to say the right things when he needed to hear it the most.

Dean slept surprisingly well that night.

* * *

Lydia was on edge Sunday morning. Harry seemed pleased that Danielle had called the day before, but the relief that should have been there didn't seem to be, and he never once picked up the phone to call Danielle himself the way he normally would have done. _Something's wrong with him_, Lydia echoed Danielle's words in her mind, and she found she was truly starting to believe them.

Harry had always been a family man, dedicated to his three beautiful girls even though two of them were different from the third. Sarah had been diagnosed with Asperger's autism only five years earlier, but Elise hadn't been diagnosed until only two years ago. The funny thing was that while both Harry and Lydia thought that Elise was simply emulating her older sisters and still learning her place in the world, Danielle had been adamant in her belief that she was autistic like Sarah. And that was _before_ she had started the whole "know how you're feeling before you can tell me" thing.

Danielle was the "normal" one of Lydia's three daughters, having been an excellent student in virtually everything she studied, while Sarah and Elise had their specialties that they excelled in. The best thing was that it didn't seem to matter to Harry that two of his daughters were "different"; he loved them all equally, even if his most intelligent conversations had been with Danielle, even though Sarah had managed to graduate with an average GPA and Danielle had graduated with honors while Elise was proving to be the math genius of the three girls, getting even better grades in that subject than even Danielle. None of that mattered, because those girls were their daughters and they loved them all the same.

Harry was also dedicated to his work at the mental state hospital, but the hours he put in had always been simply what was needed to support their family. Now it seemed all he _did_ these days was work. He had told Lydia it was because they needed to support Danielle in every way possible while she was still grieving over Jared's death, but Danielle had kept her normal hours at the theater while attending school as a full-time student and seemed perfectly capable of supporting herself financially, never buying things that she wanted over things that she needed to get along in life.

Danielle was starting to get better now emotionally. So what was wrong with Harry?

Church didn't seem the same that day. Harry was attentive, as usual, but he lacked the warmth he usually showed. Elise kept shooting him sideways glances like she wanted to talk to him but was afraid to. Even Sarah seemed on edge, and Lydia hadn't said a single thing to them. If they were picking up on it, too…

Danielle called later that afternoon while Harry was downstairs on the computer, and Lydia was even more relieved to hear her voice this time around. "There's something wrong with your father," she told Danielle, forgoing any pleasantries.

"Wow, hi," Danielle said, sounding taken aback. "What's happened?"

"Well, nothing," Lydia said, staring at the pan of lasagna she was preparing. "And that's the thing. I told him you called, just like you asked, and he was pleased, but he didn't seem relieved, exactly."

"He never called me," Danielle replied quietly. "Daddy normally would've gone out of his way to call me himself once he heard the news, and he didn't."

"I know, I just — Dani, what's going on?" Lydia asked. "What is wrong with my husband?"

Danielle didn't say anything for a long moment. "I can't tell you," she finally said, and Lydia felt her temper flare.

"Danielle Elizabeth Young —"

"Mommy, it's too dangerous," Danielle cut her off, and Lydia felt anger bleed into confusion at her daughter's tone of voice. She wasn't just serious; she was deadly serious. "I can't say anything because one, I'm still not sure you'd believe me without proof, and two…" Danielle trailed off for a moment. "I don't know what he'd do if he were to find out you know. I won't take that risk."

"Dani, I don't understand," Lydia said wearily.

"When we get there, you'll understand," Danielle said. "In the meantime, you can't say anything that would make him suspicious. Just act normal, and we'll be there in two, maybe three hours, okay?"

"But you just crossed the border, right?"

Danielle gave a chuckle. "It seems Dean's really good at speeding and scaring the crap outta me, and I thought only Jared could do that. Just — hang tight, we'll be there soon and then it'll all make sense, I promise."

Lydia didn't like it, but the way Danielle was talking made her think that she was probably best off listening to her daughter. "All right," she said, resigned to the idea of staying in the dark, for now. "Please drive safely, okay?"

"Yeah, we will," Danielle said. "And tell Daddy we won't be back for four hours instead of two, all right?"

"All right," Lydia repeated. "I love you."

She hung up and returned her full attention to the half-finished pan before her, trying desperately to keep the lid closed on her worry.

* * *

_TBC_


	11. Chapter Eleven: Always a Reason

**Demon Virus**

**Chapter Eleven: Always a Reason**

**Finished this sooner than I expected, so here you go. One more chapter to go after this!

* * *

**

As the Impala exited the freeway and approached the house, Sam sensed it. "There's a demon nearby," he said, "and it feels like the same direction as the house."

Danielle let out a resigned sigh. "How are we gonna do this?" she asked.

"You said your family normally has dinner about now, right?" Dean said from the driver's seat.

"That's right."

"Okay then," Dean said, determined as they drove down Center Street, "so we'll set up in your bedroom since it's got that side door entrance and the carpet isn't attached to the concrete floor."

"We need to make it look like we just dropped you off," Sam said, "otherwise it could tip him off."

"So we'll have to park a little ways away so we can slip into my room without being noticed," Danielle said. "And after you set up?"

"I'll stay behind," Sam said as the car turned onto Geneva Road, "then Dean drops you off, parks around the corner and walks back. That gives you say, five minutes with your family before you ask to speak with your dad in private and lead him down into your room."

"You'll both have to wait outside," Danielle pointed out, "my room doesn't really have any hiding spaces."

"Yeah, what's the deal with the wardrobe?" Dean asked as they turned into the right neighborhood.

"It was meant to be a work room," Danielle said. "It used to be my mom's craft room until she had Elise. Then it just sat unused until I got old enough to want my own space."

"Ah," Dean said. "Makes sense." He parked the Impala on a corner away from the house. "Let's go."

They quickly exited the car and made their way down the street to Danielle's home. "They won't see us?" Dean asked.

"Kitchen faces out the back window, remember?" Danielle said with a small grin. They rounded the hedges and quickly made their way over to the side of the house. Danielle unlocked the side door and they stepped into her bedroom. Sam and Dean quickly set to work while Danielle, monitored her family.

"God, he just _feels_ so wrong," she mumbled after a few moments.

"That's a demon for you," Sam sighed as he and Dean moved the carpet and Sam started to draw the Devil's Trap on the concrete floor with chalk. Danielle shuddered slightly.

Ten minutes later, they were done and back outside.

"Hurry," Sam said, "we can't mess this up."

"I know," Dean said with a small smile. "C'mon, Dani." Sam watched as Danielle headed back to the Impala with Dean, and then he turned his attention to the emotions of Danielle's family.

Apart from Harry, Lydia's emotions stood out the most. She was almost an emotional wreck, suspicion and fear mixing with worry for her entire family. It was a miracle the demon possessing Harry wasn't suspicious. Danielle's two sisters were tense, confused, and a little worried themselves.

Sam's understanding of Asperger's autism was that those who had it were high functioning and were capable of normal lives, but often struggled with socializing while they had areas of specialty. According to Danielle, her older sister, Sarah's specialty was history. In fact, she was going to be graduating in the spring with a degree in education as a history teacher. Elise, on the other hand, was a math whiz. She grasped difficult calculus concepts with the ease of a professional, and it looked like she could have a future in engineering.

Danielle, once she'd come out of her shell, had revealed a deep love for her family along with a strong desire to protect them. She had told Sam about how Sarah had been teased and bullied a lot growing up, how she had never been able to take it well, often bursting into tears and running away to find the nearest adult's help.

"When people learned I was her little sister, they tried to do the same with me in elementary school," Danielle had told him at a gas station in Idaho. "The only problem was that I was always aware of the existence of bullies, and the things they did and said to Sarah only made me angry." She had grinned. "I got in trouble a few times growing up for fighting, but I always thought it was worth it because the bullies learned to back off, and not just with me. Sarah was in sixth grade when I started first grade, and she always said it was her easiest year because of her tiny pipsqueak of a sister beating up 12-year-old boys."

Sam had laughed long and hard at the image.

Family meant a lot to Danielle, that much was clear, and it was something he could tell that Dean respected about her. Sam smiled as he watched the Impala pull up in front of the house, Danielle stepping out from the backseat a moment later with her duffel bag in hand. "Thanks!" she called before shutting the door and making her way to the front of the house. Sam took a deep breath and began to mentally prepare himself.

* * *

Danielle took a calming breath before unlocking and opening the front door. "Hey!" she called out, forcing herself to sound bright and happy as she stepped inside.

"Dani!" Elise came flying down the stairs before the rest of the family, almost knocking Danielle into the closed door as she slammed into her arms. "You came back!"

"Of course I came back," Danielle said as she wrapped her arms around her little sister. "I'll always come back."

"Hey," Sarah said, grinning as she came down the stairs. "How was… How was your trip?"

"Busy," Danielle said. "Miss me?"

Sarah nodded as Elise just hugged Danielle even more tightly.

"I think we all missed you," said Lydia from the top of the stairs. "How did you lose your phone signal in Oregon?"

"Dunno," Danielle said with a shrug as Elise finally stepped back from the hug, allowing Sarah the space to step in and hug her now. "No cell signal and all the landlines were knocked out. It was weird."

"That does sound weird," said Harry, wrapping an arm around Lydia's shoulders and pulling her close. "We were really worried about you, Dani."

"I know," Danielle said, forcing herself to ignore how _wrong_ her father felt. "I'm sorry."

Sarah released her and Danielle made her way up the stairs to hug her parents. "How was life without me?"

"Dreadful," Lydia answered as she pulled Danielle close. "We missed your piano playing in Relief Society today."

"I'm sure," Danielle said dryly as she allowed her father to hug her, all too aware of the wrong details. It wasn't tight enough, and he didn't pat her on the back or do the slight pullback so she could kiss his cheek before pulling her close again. Danielle thought demons had access to their victim's thoughts and memories, so why wasn't this one putting up a better front? Unless it still thought it didn't have to…

"So, why did you go clear up to Oregon?" Elise asked.

"It's a long story," Danielle said, "and I'm exhausted. I'll tell you later, okay?"

Elise was disappointed, but nodded anyway.

"Were those brothers gentlemen?" Harry asked. "I'd hate to have to take them down a peg if they did anything."

"They _were_ perfect gentlemen," Danielle said with a small grin, fascinated by how the demon seemed to understand the right words to say, if not the right actions to make. "Well, as perfect as the sons of a Marine could be, anyway."

"Their father was in the Marines?" Lydia asked.

"Yeah, he served in Vietnam before he met their mother," Danielle said. "He raised his boys very well."

"That's good to hear," Harry said with the right smile. "Do you want any food? We were just finishing dinner."

"I'm not hungry," Danielle said. "I'd just rather lay down for a little while. All that driving was pretty exhausting."

"I bet," Lydia said. "Sarah, Elise, come help me clean up?"

"Yes, Mommy," Danielle's sisters said, making their way back into the kitchen.

"Daddy, could I talk to you in private?" Danielle asked quietly.

"What about?" Harry asked as Danielle went back down the stairs to retrieve her duffle bag.

"About what happened when I was Oregon," Danielle told him. "I don't really feel comfortable telling the others about it without talking to you first."

"What happened?" Harry asked, the concern on his face _just_ right as he followed Danielle down the stairs. "You said those boys were gentlemen —"

"It's not about Sam and Dean," Danielle said, debating before pulling her t-shirt down enough to reveal the bandage covering her stitches.

"What's —?" Harry broke off as he stepped closer. "Were you hurt?"

"I — can we go to my room?" Danielle asked, swallowing hard. "I don't want to worry the others about this, not yet."

Harry nodded. "All right." They headed down the stairs and Danielle opened the door to her room, flicking on the light and stepping over to her bed to drop her duffle bag onto it.

Harry shut the door and stepped right into the Devil's Trap unknowingly. "What happened in Oregon, Dani?"

Danielle glanced away for a moment before meeting the eyes of her father straight on. "I think you already know," she said calmly.

Harry frowned, dark emotions swirling beneath the surface. "What?"

Danielle smiled and chuckled a little. "Is the act really necessary? Christo."

Harry's eyes turned pitch black and he flinched, snarling and trying to move forward, only to find he couldn't move outside of the Trap. "What the —?"

"Devil's Trap under the carpet," Danielle said. "Guys!"

The side door that led outside opened and the brothers stepped into the room. "How did you know?" Harry asked after staring at Sam and Dean for a long moment.

"You've been in my dad since when, July?" Danielle said. "I was under the impression that demons have the ability to access the thoughts and memories of the person they're possessing." She sat down on her bed, keeping Harry's attention on herself as Sam and Dean waited quietly by the door. "Harry Young would have called the authorities to report me missing yesterday morning. Harry Young is devoted to his family and rarely works long hours at the mental hospital. He wouldn't have worked late every night to 'support' me or whatever. I kept my normal hours at the theater and only purchased the things that were necessary for school and basic living. My father had no need to earn extra money on my behalf because I didn't _need_ him to.

"The other thing is that while I can't sense demons the way Sam can," Danielle continued after a moment, "I can still _sense_ your emotions. You _know_ I'm empathic, and your emotions are _not_ my father's."

Harry's mouth twisted into a scowl. "So, what now? You gonna send me back to the Pit?"

"Sounds like a good idea to me," Dean spoke up from the door. Harry turned and glared at him before looking back at Danielle.

"Do you remember how it felt, watching that oilrig burst into flames?" he said, and Danielle tensed up at once. "There were screams, weren't there, from the other men working with your Jared?"

"Shut up," Danielle said quietly.

"Burning to death isn't a pleasant sensation," Harry told her.

"Sam," Dean said, "let's get this over with."

"I know which demon killed your husband," Harry hissed, and Danielle felt her insides freeze.

"Demons lie," Dean snapped.

"Don't you wanna know _why_ he did it? Why he killed Jared?"

Danielle shook her head, wanting desperately to just run away even as she found she wanted to know _why_ the man she loved had been taken from her.

"Sam," Dean said, "do it."

"Exorcizamus te," Sam intoned, "omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii…"

"I'll rip this body to shreds," Harry snarled, whirling around to face Sam. "You gonna kill her precious daddy?"

Sam stared at the demon silently for a moment before his eyes shifted to Danielle's desk chair. Danielle watched as it zoomed behind Harry, forcing him to sit as Dean quickly moved forward with rope. "Sorry, Harry," he muttered, meeting Danielle's eyes before he started tying her father's body to the chair. The demon struggled to rise, but Danielle could actually _sense_ Sam's telekinesis at work, holding him in place until Dean was finished. Latin began to flow from Sam's mouth again and the demon snarled, jerking against the ropes holding it in place before letting out a guttural scream.

"That's gonna attract your family's attention, isn't it?" Dean said as Sam continued to recite the exorcism.

"Yeah," Danielle sighed as three sets of feet began to fly down the stairs toward her room. She stood as the door opened.

"Oh my…" Lydia's voice trailed off as she took in the sight of her husband strapped to Danielle's chair. "What's going on? What are you doing to my husband?"

"Harry's been possessed by a demon," Dean told her as Elise and Sarah forced their way into the room behind Lydia. "We're gonna save him, though, I swear."

"Demon?" Lydia gasped, turning her eyes to Danielle, emotions screaming out fear, confusion and even some anger. "Dani?"

Danielle pressed her lips together as Sam continued the exorcism. "You'd never have believed me if I told you over the phone," she finally said. Harry snarled and his eyes went black again. Elise gasped. "I'm sorry," Danielle added. "I wish you didn't have to know."

"Sarah, Elise, go back upstairs," Lydia said after a long moment of watching her husband scream and jerk in the chair.

"Mommy —"

"Now," Lydia snapped. "You don't need to see this." After a moment, Sarah nodded and pulled Elise from the room, shutting the door behind them.

Sam was still reciting the exorcism when Harry's dark eyes met Danielle's once more. "We _had_ to kill Jared," he gasped out.

"What?" Lydia whispered. "Dani —"

"Not now," Danielle snapped. "What does that mean? Jared wasn't a threat —"

"You're one of the best," Harry managed before gasping and writhing in the chair. "After Sam, you've got… most potential. All that anger —" He broke off with a scream. "You hate people," he gasped out, chest heaving. "Jared — he had to go… Teaching you to let go —" He started laughing before another scream was ripped free.

"_It's not that I didn't trust people,"_ Danielle's own words echoed in her mind. _"I was always willing to trust, but it doesn't take much to _break _that trust. Outside of my family, Jared was the only one I trusted with my life, and with him around… Trust got easier. I wasn't so quick to judge people's misdeeds with him around. It was like… learning to let go of all that anger I had growing up."_

Just then, Sam finished the exorcism, and Harry's head was jerked back as black smoke poured from his mouth, swirling within the confines of the Devil's Trap before crackling and burning into nothing. Harry's head slumped forward as he lost consciousness.

It was over.

* * *

Sam and Dean carried Harry upstairs once he regained consciousness. He wasn't injured apart from rope burn on his wrists and ankles, but it was pretty obvious he was out of it. Dean stepped back from Harry and Lydia's bed with Sam as Danielle's mom surged forward, practically crawling across the bed to sit beside her husband.

"I need answers," she told the brothers. "Can — would you wait until Harry's asleep?"

"Yeah," Dean said, snagging Sam's arm and guiding him from the room. Danielle was standing in the hallway, both of her sisters standing just behind her. "We're waiting before talking about it," he told Danielle, who nodded silently, her expression just as unreadable as it had been the day they'd met. It made Dean wish that he could read her emotions like Sam.

"Is Daddy really okay?" Elise asked softly.

"Yeah," Dean told her. "His body wasn't damaged by the demon possessing him. He just needs some R&R, that's all."

Elise looked close to tears, and Sarah didn't appear to be in much better shape.

"Let's get you two some hot chocolate," Danielle finally said, turning to her sisters and guiding them to the front room. "Just sit down and…" She trailed off, suddenly looking just a little helpless.

"You know," Dean said, unsure as to why he was taking the lead on this when it wasn't even his family, "I think hot chocolate is a _great_ idea. I know you two probably have as many questions as your mom does, but let's take a step back and try to calm down before tackling any of this, okay?"

Sarah nodded and pulled Elise over to the couch to sit down.

"Thank you," Danielle whispered as she went into the kitchen. Dean left Sam with the two sisters and followed Danielle over to the stove, where she was heating some water in an old kettle.

"It feels more real to do it this way," Danielle said after a moment, gesturing to the kettle as she pulled out six mugs. "Can you grab the mix from that cupboard over there?" She pointed to the other side of the stove. "Top shelf."

Dean nodded and fetched the coca mix. "I'm sorry we couldn't keep it from your sisters," he said quietly.

Danielle paused as she took the mix from Dean and met his eyes, revealing just how close to tears she really was. "Yeah," she said, sniffing as she turned away. "I know."

By the time the hot chocolate was ready, Lydia had also taken a seat in the front room. Dean helped Danielle pass out the mugs before sitting next to Sam. Danielle, he noticed, took the piano bench rather than try to squeeze onto the couch with her mother and sisters.

"So," Sam said after a few moments of silence, "what did you wanna know?"

"How did you know Harry was possessed?" Lydia asked at once.

Dean watched Sam and Danielle as their eyes met. This was gonna be a long Q&A session, he could tell.

* * *

_TBC..._


	12. Chapter Twelve: Family is Stronger

**Demon Virus**

**Chapter Twelve: Family is Stronger**

**Well, here's the final chapter for this story! I hope you've enjoyed the ride.**

**Note for the future: the next story won't be posted until I can figure out how to do more than update with the way this stupid site has been freaking out on a lot of people, myself included. If it gets to be too long, then I'll probably starting posting on my LiveJournal account and make that link available to you all. In the meantime, thank you for waiting and thanks for reading!**

**

* * *

**

"How did you know Harry was possessed?"

Danielle met Sam's eyes for a moment before she decided that she would answer. Sam nodded his understanding and sipped at his hot chocolate.

"This is a long story," Danielle finally said, "and I promise we'll explain everything, but you've gotta listen, okay?"

Lydia frowned, but nodded.

"About a year ago," Danielle began, "I started getting these headaches, like migraines, and nothing helped them to go away except sleeping it off."

"I remember that," said Sarah softly. "Jared would — he'd have to pick me up from school and get one of his brothers to drive your car home."

Danielle nodded with a faint smile. "After a while, the headaches stopped, but things were… different, I guess." She swallowed before leaning forward with her mug cradled in her hands. "I mean, _I_ was different."

"How?" asked Lydia.

"I could sense the emotions of other people," Danielle said. "The ability is called empathy."

"Wait, sense?" Lydia said. "I don't —"

"I literally _felt_ what other people were feeling," Danielle explained. "Anyone who stood close to me? I knew what emotions were running through their minds, and the headaches I got from _that_ were even worse than the other ones." She took a sip of her cocoa. "Jared believed me when I finally told him, and he helped me figure out how to block out everyone around me." She smiled, thinking of her dead husband. "He made it all so much easier to deal with."

"You really feel what other people feel?" Lydia asked.

"You want to believe me," Danielle said at once, lowering her mental shields so she could read her mother. "You're scared, you're worried about Daddy, you're unsure as to whether you _should_ believe me, and you're wondering if I might just be a little bit crazy."

"I wasn't!" Lydia exclaimed, and Danielle raised her eyebrows silently. Her mother's shoulders slumped. "It just sounds —"

"We know how it sounds," Sam cut her off gently, "but it's the truth. Dean and I grew up dealing with stuff like this."

Lydia's mouth fell open. "Your parents raised you to know about demons and mind readers?"

"And ghosts and ghouls and werewolves," Dean put in, "and just our dad. Our mom died when Sam was six months old."

"Oh." Lydia raised a hand to her mouth. "I'm so sorry."

Sam smiled sadly.

"Anyway," Danielle said, "I got really good at reading other people, but blocking out the entire population of a college started to get really hard, which is why I took that semester off at the beginning of the year and moved up to Colorado so we could be closer to Jared's job. It was also so I could learn how to deal better, I guess."

Next was the hard part. "Last March when Jared… When he died…" Danielle stared down at her mug before looking over at Sam. He was all sadness and encouragement, and she knew she had to do this. So, she told her family everything, from the demon to the sabotage to how the demon spared her life while taking Jared's away. Once again, telling the truth left her in tears, and she felt her mother gently pull away her mug before taking her into her arms and murmuring how sorry she was, how everything was okay, that she believed her…

Little else was said for several minutes.

"It was a demon that killed our mom," Dean said, attracting the attention of Lydia and Danielle's sisters. "It made a Deal with her to save our dad's life ten years before Sam was born, and on the night of his six-month birthday, the demon came to collect on the Deal, only our mom tried to stop him."

Lydia slowly pulled away from Danielle.

"The demon, Azazel, he made Deals with dozens of mother across the country," Sam spoke up. "These Deals were always made to save the father's lives. One man was cured of terminal cancer, another was saved from a fatal car crash, and there was even another who…" Sam met Danielle's eyes, silently asking if he should say. Danielle nodded slightly. "He should have died from a type of tachycardia, but his heart healed completely within the space of a week."

Lydia froze before stepping away from Danielle, eyes locked on Sam. "You don't mean Harry?" she whispered, and Sam took a deep breath before nodding.

"You spoke to a doctor who said he could help," Sam said quietly, "who said he could make it so Harry recovered completely, and all you had to do was give him permission to enter your home about ten years later."

Danielle watched as her mom sank back onto the couch with Sarah and Elise. "I never saw him again," she said softly. "Harry got better and I never told him…" She swallowed before looking over at Danielle. "I swear I never saw that doctor again, so I just made myself forget about it."

"He came back," Sam said. "Danielle was born exactly one month early, just like me, just like other kids around the country, and six months later, he came back in the middle of the night to collect on the Deal."

"I never heard anything," Lydia said, starting to panic. "That night, I never heard a thing! I didn't even wake up!"

"Most mothers didn't," Dean said. "Only two other moms besides our own got up the night Azazel came, and he killed them all. You should feel lucky you didn't get up that night."

"Lucky?" Lydia gasped, and Danielle sensed a terrified anger in her. "I made a deal with a demon and I didn't know it!" She leaned forward. "What would have happened if I got up that night?"

"Mrs. Young," Dean said, "I don't think —"

"What would have happened?"

"It's not pleasant," Dean told her.

"Tell me," Lydia insisted, and Dean sighed, glancing at Sarah and Elise before he spoke, shooting Danielle an apologetic look.

"Azazel would have pinned you to the ceiling," he said shortly. "You wouldn't have been able to move, and you'd have screamed, but then he'd stop that, too. Then he'd slash your stomach and wait for your husband to run into the room in a panic. Blood would drip from your wound and into your child's cradle. You husband would look up, see you up there, scream your name, scream for help, and then you would burst into flames, right above your husband and child. You burn to death and your children lose their mother for the rest of their lives."

Elise choked out a sob and buried her face against Sarah, who held her tightly. Danielle closed her eyes and blocked out everyone's emotions. She already knew how her mother and sisters felt after hearing that, because it was the same as how she'd felt when she learned what happened.

"Why did he come?" Lydia asked, voice soft. "What did he do that night?"

"Fed me demon blood," Danielle forced herself to say. "A few drops, just enough to make sure I'd develop some kind of ability about six months after my twenty-second birthday. Same with Sam and all those other kids."

Lydia was quiet for a long time.

"I started out with visions," Sam told Lydia, "only they happened in my sleep at first and I didn't believe them until that first one came true."

"What happened?" Sarah asked. "What was your vision about?"

"My girlfriend dying the same way as our mom," Sam answered, and Sarah sucked in a sharp breath, still holding Elise close.

"You said you started out with visions," Lydia spoke up again. "Does that mean you can do other things now?"

Sam nodded after a moment. "We're all capable of more than the one ability we get," he explained, "but accessing the other things only happens when you're forced into it or you accept the role Azazel wants you to play."

"What role?" Lydia pressed.

"We think soldiers in a demon army," Dean said, "but Azazel hasn't been very forthcoming with the details. Sam was forced to unlock his other abilities," he added a moment later.

"What else can you do?" Sarah asked.

"I'm empathic like your sister," Sam replied after exchanging glances with Dean. "I'm also really strong, I can control people's minds with my own, and I'm telekinetic."

"Moving objects with your mind," Sarah supplied, and Sam nodded.

"There's more abilities out there," he added. "There's a girl who can stop hearts with a touch, and we knew a guy who could electrocute people to death if he wanted."

Danielle realized that Sam hadn't mentioned the fact that he was sort of capable of doing the same thing, himself, but she figured they'd given enough information as it was.

"I do have another ability," Sam continued after a moment. "I can sense demons."

"That's how you knew for sure that Harry was possessed?" Lydia asked, and Sam nodded again.

"His emotions didn't feel like Daddy's, either," Danielle added.

"And what you did earlier —"

"It was an… an exorcism in Latin," Sarah spoke up. "The Catholic… The Catholic Church has several that they've used over the centuries. Do you have holy water, too?"

"Yeah," Dean said, amazed by Sarah's historical knowledge. "It works, as well. You're good."

"I know my history," Sarah said simply.

"Why did you go to Oregon?" Elise suddenly asked as she finally lifted her head, pale face tear-streaked.

"The demons were testing a virus they created," Danielle answered, "and we were tricked into going up there so they could test us, make sure that Sam and I were immune."

"Were you?" Elise asked.

Danielle nodded. "It wasn't pretty. The virus was spread through blood contact." She pulled down her t-shirt again to show off the bandage. "I got stitches under that," she said when her mother rushed forward. "Sam, too."

Lydia turned to stare at Sam, who shot Danielle a sarcastic 'thank you' look before moving his button-down shirt to the side, showing off his own bandage.

"I thought you said they'd protect you," Lydia hissed in Danielle's ear. Danielle rolled her eyes.

"I'm not dead, Mommy," she said dryly, "and Sam got hurt, too. We were at a complete disadvantage up there."

Lydia took a deep breath before sighing and nodding. "You're still alive," she whispered.

"I'm still alive," Danielle said back, and that was all that mattered.

* * *

"That could've gone worse," Dean said as Danielle opened the front door.

Sam chuckled. "Yeah," he said. "She could've locked us up in the mental hospital."

"I heard that!" came Lydia's voice from her bedroom upstairs.

"My mom's always been pretty good at believing things," Danielle said with a laugh. "She just needs proof sometimes, that's all."

"I'm sure today was plenty of proof," Dean said.

"So, we'll see you tomorrow?" Sam asked Danielle.

Danielle nodded. "We need to work on increasing your strength some more," she said. "You're starting to get there, but it's gonna take more time."

Sam smiled. "Thanks for everything you've done so far," he said, and Danielle lightly cuffed his arm.

"I just gave you the way," she told him. "The will comes from you."

Sam grinned and decided to pull Danielle into a hug. "Take care of your family," he told her. "You know they're gonna have trouble processing it all."

"Tell me about it," Danielle grinned back up at him before rising on her tiptoes and quickly pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. "Lemme know where you're staying this time, okay?"

"Will do," Dean said. "See ya."

Danielle closed the front door as Sam and Dean headed for the Impala. "This weekend was too long," Sam said after a moment.

"Gonna sleep for a week?" Dean joked. "I know I might."

Sam laughed. "It's a real possibility. Hey, wanna get something to eat?"

"You kidding me?" Dean said, stopping and staring at Sam. "I'm freakin' _starvin_."

Sam laughed. "You're a bottomless pit, Dean."

"Duh," Dean snarked as he started up the engine. "I hope this means you're actually getting your appetite back."

Sam smiled. "I think it does," he said.

Little else was said until they'd found a food joint they both agreed on, purchased their food and returned to the motel they'd already used, though this time they were in a different room.

"Hey, Sam?" Dean said after some time.

"Yeah?" Sam said, looking up from his laptop. A moment later, Dean's emotions shifted and Sam realized this was going to be a serious conversation.

Dean shifted on his bed, uncertain before reaching some kind of resolve and meeting Sam's eyes. "The night before Dad died, he told me something," he said. "Something… about you."

Sam frowned. He'd been more than aware of the fact that Dean had some kind of secret, but he'd never once thought that Dean would actually ever tell him. "What about me?" he asked. There was silence for a few seconds. "Dean," he said seriously, "what did he tell you?"

Dean took a deep breath and looked away for a moment. "He said — Dad said I had to save you, and if I — if I can't, then…" He steeled himself and Sam felt his breath catch at Dean's next words. "Then I might have to kill you."

Sam _really_ hadn't expected that, even though he knew he should have. The way Dean had reacted in Montana with those vamps and Gordon whenever the idea of ganking Sam had been brought up… Sam forced himself to push away his emotions and gave a dry chuckle even as his eyes stung with the threat of tears. "So not even Dad had confidence in me," he said as casually as possible, and Dean's emotions and face both darkened at once.

"Haven't you noticed _anything_ these last few months, Sam?" he said, standing and stalking over to the table where Sam sat. "I _am_ saving you, just by being here! And you…" Dean growled and actually slammed a fist on the tabletop. "Dammit, Sam, you're strong enough to not even _need_ saving. You are!" he insisted when Sam started shaking his head. "Killing you will _never_ be an option, Sammy, you understand? If it's the last thing I do, I'll save you and we'll kill Azazel and end all this." He dropped into the other chair. "I swear it."

If the words weren't convincing enough, then the conviction in both Dean's emotions and words were. Sam swallowed hard and looked away to conceal the tears he already knew were coming. "Thanks," he managed to whisper.

He felt Dean's relief. "Our lives are weird," he said, "and you're virtually your own freak show, but I swear I'm not goin' _anywhere_. We stay together, and we stay alive, and we'll get through this."

Sam nodded. "Anything else you wanna say?" he managed after a few moments.

He looked up to see Dean smiling. "I think I'm done," he said. "Don't need any more chick-flick moments today or my brain'll probably melt."

Sam laughed. Dean was a tough guy with a soft interior, and Sam couldn't imagine having anyone else for a big brother, couldn't _want_ anyone else. Come what may, they were in this together, and that was what really mattered.

* * *

Dean knew Sam better than anybody, so when his little brother fell asleep that night, he knew without a doubt that there wouldn't be any nightmares this night. He stepped outside the motel, unsurprised to see Danielle's Pontiac parked next to the Impala, with said driver sitting on the roof of the red car, cross-legged and bundled up against the cold November air with a bright blue beanie on her head and a long scarf that consisted of about seven different colors.

"I told him," Dean said simply. Danielle nodded silently. "It doesn't change anything, you know."

"Never said it did," Danielle remarked lightly, turning her head to look at Dean as he stepped forward and leaned against the side of his own car. "Family is stronger, remember?"

Dean grinned and ducked his head. "I know," he said. "Plus, Sam's stronger than he gives himself credit for."

"Very true," Danielle said with a small grin.

There was a long moment of silence.

"How's your family holdin' up?" Dean asked. True, they'd only been over there just hours earlier, but that didn't mean he didn't care.

"As well as one could expect, I guess," Danielle said with a shrug. "My dad doesn't remember much of anything from the last few months, but I caught him up on everything and, well… I think we're all kinda broken, you know?"

"Yeah," Dean said. "You don't learn about all this without being broken in _some_ way."

Danielle smiled sadly. "My sisters are terrified for me," she said. "I know I wasn't the best sister to either of them after Jared died, but I've always been the _normal_ one with all the social understanding and enough of a defensive complex to beat off bullies twice my size." She pressed her lips together. "They all but lost me the last seven months. If they lost me again…" She trailed off and looked away.

"I don't think they will," Dean said. "I won't lie, after you shut that woman in the closet with your brain I had my doubts, but your anger and hurt… It's like Sam's in a lot of ways, and I don't doubt him."

Danielle's smile was brighter this time. "Thanks," she said softly. "What happens now?"

"Now…" Dean pushed off from his car and took a seat on the hood of the Pontiac. "You keep helping Sam until he's learned to control the empathy, and then we hit the road while you…" He glanced up at Danielle. "You live," he finally said. "We can teach your family how to protect each other, but you _live_ your life the way Jared would've wanted, without fear."

"There's a lot out there to be afraid of," Danielle pointed out.

"You face your fears, then," Dean said with a shrug. "You _know_ Sam and I both still get scared, but we do our best to not let that fear control us. Your family is capable of it, I know it."

Danielle's smile got a little brighter. "Thank you," she said. "No nightmares tonight?" she asked a moment later, jerking her head in the direction of the motel room.

"Nah," Dean said. "I think the chick-flick moment tonight made up for that."

Danielle actually laughed at that. "Keep being so open with him and you might actually _cry_ sometime."

"Hey, now," Dean said with laughter of his own, "let's not push things _too_ much, Dani. I'm the tough guy, remember?"

"Han Solo," Danielle said, "right? And Sam's your Luke Skywalker?"

"Sums it up nicely, doncha think?" Dean said with a grin. "He's got the crazy Jedi mind tricks, and I've got the brawn."

"Sam's pretty brawny, too," Danielle chuckled.

"But he's also the emotional one," Dean pointed out. "Always has been."

"You'd do anything for Sam," Danielle said after a long moment of peaceful silence.

"Yeah," Dean said, "I would. He's all I got left," he added with a shrug.

Danielle nodded and finally slid off her car. "I should get back home," she said, "it's been a long weekend."

Dean nodded, too. "That it has. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Danielle said, giving Dean another smile. She paused before throwing her arms around Dean and hugging him tightly. "Sorry for the uh, 'chick-flick', but if I'd had an older brother, I'd have wanted one just like you." Dean hesitated before wrapping his arms around Danielle and hugging her back. "You really _are_ a good man, Dean," Danielle said softly, "and I think you give Sam more strength than you give yourself credit for."

"Thanks," Dean murmured. "G'night, Dani."

Danielle smiled once more and slid into her car, starting up the engine and backing out of the parking lot. Dean watched until her car had passed out of sight and returned to the motel room.

The road ahead was still vastly uncertain, but there was hope, right? One way or another, they'd get though this.

* * *

"This is good to hear," Azazel murmured once the two demons finished their report. "They're both a lot more capable than I had first imagined." He leaned back in his seat. "You're absolutely positive that there was _no_ chance they weren't immune in any way?"

"I tried directing them several times," the taller demon answered, "and there was no connection to work with. That's when I finished off the infected who were left and we killed the survivors who managed to avoid contact."

Azazel nodded, feeling most satisfied by the successful test. "Contact Brady, let him know the results and store the virus away for future use. We don't need any unexpected breakouts right now."

"Yes, father," the second demon said, bowing his head. The two demons left.

Two weeks. Almost three if one wanted to be technical, but it wasn't important. Derrick reported being close to done with the research that had been given to him, and Tara said she was getting close, as well. Soon Azazel would know everything he needed to set up a proper testing ground as well as what was needed to unlock the gateway in the cemetery his minions had discovered years back.

Once the army was assembled and Lilith was freed, then he would work on getting the first Seal broken. The latest reports from the Pit said that John was still resisting, and Azazel was now more than convinced that his first thoughts about the stories of the two brothers was being reflected in more ways than one.

The question now was what would it take to get Dean downstairs so he could be broken into breaking the First Seal? Reports said Dean was determined to keep himself and Sam together, no matter what happened. Not that such things would matter when it was Sam's turn to join the competition, but then he knew without a doubt that Dean would tear the country apart to find Sam if he had to. Azazel would get Dean into Hell, once he found the right way, and then he'd get everything he wanted.

It was a good day to be alive (or whatever this was), and Azazel smiled.

* * *

_Bright, white light. Its purpose is not to destroy, but to release._

_It's what the light _releases_ that's meant to destroy._

_All he has to do is say 'yes' and then the end of the world can begin._

Danielle's eyes opened.

_It always had to be you, Sammy._

Danielle rubbed at her forehead, willing the headache to go away as she tried to hang onto the details of the dream. Like before, it drained away before she could understand any of it. All she knew was that it had been about Sam.

There was more to everything than she or the Winchesters knew, she was starting to be convinced of it. But what more was there?

Danielle feared, maybe irrationally, that the answer could destroy them all.

* * *

END


End file.
